


You and Whose Army?

by everythinghappensforareason17



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Gen, Heavy Angst, I will continue to tag over the course of reposting this story, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Romance, Sexual Content, Underage Drinking, Violence, just let me know if there's any tags you think i should add
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:39:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 47,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythinghappensforareason17/pseuds/everythinghappensforareason17
Summary: Instead of mind-warpping Alex, Tess comes to him and asks him for his help in decoding the book; Alex being Alex, agrees. But the two soon learn that by decoding the book, they have brought all forms of danger to Roswell. So, in order to keep everybody they love safe; they make up an elaborate plan for Alex to die in a gruesome but suspicious car crash and for Tess to be framed for it.Now, ten years later, Tess, Alex, and her young son are on the run from an enemy far more dangerous than they could have ever imagined. So dangerous, in fact, that not even those they left in Roswell aren't safe anymore. To right, what they've done wrong; Tess and Alex decided to return to Roswell to warn their friends of their unknown enemy and to give them the true translation of the book. But are they ready to pay the price for returning home?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Spoilers thru 'Cry Your Name' than AU elements that lead to 'Ch-Ch-Changes' in season 3_
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> **I know that an 'Alex is alive' fic is not a new idea but since this story broke me out of the intense writers block i was suffering from, i decided to share it.**
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> **Tad bit of info before hand, I will have to briefly, I mean briefly, venture into the world of Max and Tess but their relationship is only used to move the plot along. Max and Tess WILL NOT be together! Repeat: Max and Tess will feel nothing romantic about each other.**
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> _AU things to Know in this story:_
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> • Alex really did go to Sweden but lied about why he was going. He really went there to find a simpler way to decode the book. In Sweden, he met Leanne aka Jennifer (a fellow alien), who helped him with the book and later, while he and Tess are on the run.
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> • While decoding the book, Alex was hit by ancient Antar cruse that should have killed him but instead caused him to develop powers. You’ll learn what happened, what will happen, and what power he has as the story goes on. 
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> • Isabel’s visions of Alex at the end of season two and that one episode in season three will not be a part of Isabel’s guilty conscious. The reason Isabel can see Alex will tie into Alex’s power. 
> 
> • I have also somewhat altered the effects that Tess and Max’s power has on them. Like, with Max, in order to heal people, he must absorb the person’s pain, which causes him pain. And Tess can only mind-wrap someone for so long before it begins to eat away at her body system and eventually her brain, making her believe the illusion is real. If she uses her power to long after that, she’ll become a vegetable and locked in her own illusion forever. 
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> **Warning! This story has loads of dark angst, death, and dark sarcastic humor. You’ve been warned.**

**Act 1, Part 1**

April 23rd, 2001 7:30 PM

 

It had taken about three hours to make it to the deserted highway near the New Mexico State line. It was usually only about an hour drive but the torrential downpour of stinging rain mixed in with heavy hail had made the drive more difficult. The lone highway in question was more an old-school dirt road than a highway really. Only truck drivers and tourists (who didn’t know the area, but were looking for a shortcut) used it. Born natives of New Mexico knew to watch out while driving on that road; it had developed a poor foundation over the centuries from tire-tracks and people in general. It was also cluttered with boulders and half-done asphalt potholes (from back when the state had tried in vain to restore it). With the crazy amount of rain pouring down, the road had become clumped together with hard mud balls that had boulders as their center. The mud was so hard, that if someone wasn’t careful, they could get their tires stuck or, if they were lucky enough to get a mud ball, they could lose their car altogether. That wasn’t something that the owner of a beaten-up black car feared as it zoomed down the road at about eighty miles an hour, recklessly, dodging boulders that were caked with mud and the road’s mud patches. The owner of the car didn’t seem to care about his own well-being or that of others; at a closer look, someone might have thought the driver of that car had to be drunk to be driving like that in weather like this.

About a quarter mile up the dirt road, the car had come to a screeching halt and, a moment later, two figures hurriedly stepped out. The occupants of the car had been two teens, a boy who had been the driver and a girl who had been the passenger; both seemed to be around the same age and both wore darkly serious, gloomy expressions. The boy was tall but not gracefully so; he had medium length, hair as black as night that was all over the place. It looked like he had run his fingers through it more than once. He wore simple clothing: a blue, long-sleeved shirt that had seen better days with a pair of faded-beige khakis. His features were average; he was run-of-the- mill guy, blending into the wallpaper. The only striking thing about him was his eyes… a deep, chocolate, brown that shone with an intense sense of understanding, the kind of understanding which, if someone wasn’t careful, they could get lost in it for hours. But now those eyes had lost their serene light and a deadly sense of knowledge had replaced it, knowledge of what needed to be done and that everything is dangerous.

The girl, on the other hand, was not ordinary in any way. Sure, she was the kind of attractive blonde, blue eyed girl that almost every adolescent (or perverted old man) drooled over, but anything else toward normal ended there. Her blonde hair came down in long sheets of curly waves; her blue eyes usually sparkled with bubbly, naïve excitement, but now looked burdened with a sense of pain… pain that no normal teen should know about yet. Then again, this wasn’t any normal teen. She was an alien. After leaving the car, the two teens spoke briefly to each other before going to the car’s fender. The boy paused briefly before pulling a pair of keys from his pocket, opening up the trunk and pulling out what could only be two small duffel bags. The first duffel seemed to bulge slightly, overloaded with stuff and the boy groaned as he pulled that one out, sending the small blonde a glare which she returned with a smirk. The second duffel was small enough for the boy to simply pull out of the trunk effortlessly and sling over his left shoulder.

The boy slammed the trunk shut and, with a brief look at his small friend, started walking up the mud sleeked road, only stopping to let the young girl catch up to him. The two continued a mile up the road before either one of them spoke.   

“Are we doing the right thing?” the short blonde asked, focusing on the road ahead of her for any oncoming cars.

The lanky boy carrying the duffels turned to her with a solemn but firm expression. “We’re doing what we have to do.” He said, harshly. He was beginning to look like a drowned puppy, his clothes drenched, and hanging off him like heavy comforters. But he didn’t feel quite comforted right now. His wild hair was beginning to become plastered to his head. If truth be told, he was looking more like a drowned rat than a puppy.

“But is it right?” the blonde pushed, trying to ignore the painful stinging of the hail that marked her cheeks red. The tall boy only shrugged. He couldn’t answer that. He wasn’t doing this to be right; he was doing this because it would keep everybody safe. The small blonde let the subject drop and the two continued walking for another mile before an unmistakable sound startled them.

The two turned to each other sharply at the sound of the oncoming semi-truck. Even through the violent rain and hail; the truck still made the road shake from its power. The teens took a collective breath before deciding to bolt toward the small ditch on the side of the road they had noticed as they were walking, constantly slipping in the mud, before sliding into the ditch at the last minute, their duffels sloshing them both with wet mud. By the time, the two had settled into the rocky ditch, the semi had grown closer to them. There wasn’t much time before the stilled car would be noticed in the middle of the road, if something wasn’t done fast. With a deep breath, the blonde girl raised her hand toward the direction of the car they had abandoned a few miles back and, after a few moments of heavy concentrating, the car began to move toward the approaching semi. Neither the boy nor the girl had a clear view of the car in question until it was about a half a quarter mile from their position in the ditch, with the semi still about a mile away from them and the car. The boy noticed that the concentration it took to power the car forward was starting to take its toll on the blonde alien, so with a slight shove of the girl’s shoulder, he made the girl break the connection at the last moment. The car stopped and, moments later, the semi-truck collided with the boy’s small car.

The catastrophic collision the semi and the car made shouldn’t have been much of a shock really; any car, no matter how big, wasn’t a match for a semi, but that didn’t stop the two teens from being unprepared for the devastating impact. Glass was thrown everywhere, in every direction from both vehicles and the initial impact from the semi made the small car cave in, causing it to buck wildly before finally bursting into flames and exploding. The driver of the semi had apparently been knocked unconscious by the initial impact and both teens had to resist the urge to go over and check to see if the man was alright; they couldn’t worry about that now. The two had to remain impassive, detached from the situation. So they stayed silent, motionless, as they watched the small car’s flames slowly die away, the rain putting them out and making everything, even the air, smell like charred charcoal.

“I need to head back to town,” the blonde said suddenly, glancing at her Mickey Mouse watch. The two hadn’t said anything to each other in nearly an hour-- since the car caught on fire.

 _God, she’s too young for this,_ the tall boy thought, saddened by seeing something as childish, as innocent, as a flash of her Mickey Mouse watch; _we’re both too young for this._ “How are you going to get back?” the boy asked, shaking his thoughts away. “You can’t walk in this weather.” He was concerned. He didn’t want her to get hurt. It was the last thing he wanted. _Little too late for that, don’t you think?_ the boy thought bitterly.

“I’ll manage,” the girl said with a small smile. She always did. The small girl took one last look at the charred wreckage she had just created, trying to bite down the roaring guilt that was slowly sneaking up on her. _It had to be done. It had been done to keep their friends safe,_ she thought, turning away from the wreck, choking down her urge to vomit. She prayed that they hadn’t killed the man laying unconscious in the semi. She didn’t think she could handle having that burden on her conscious, not with all the others she was going to be the keeper of soon.

“You sure there wasn’t any other way, Tess?” The tall boy asked her as she climbed out of the ditch and began to walk down the road.

Tess paused, mulling it over, but she already knew the answer. “I wish there was.” Tess said. “Goodbye, Alex.” She smiled sadly at her friend before continuing to walk down the road into the next town to hitch a ride. She only had three hours to get back to Roswell, get cleaned, and get to the Crashdown to meet her friends. Isabel wanted to talk about the prom, about her date… with Alex.  As Tess continued to walk back to town, Alex looked back to the wreckage that lay in front of him, the flames completely extinguished. _God, what have we done?_ he thought, slowly putting his hand over his mouth to hide his erratic breathing as he looked at grisly scene before him. _What are we about to do?_ Alex asked himself _._ Did they really know what they were up against? Were they doing the right thing by faking Alex’s death?

It didn’t matter though, because no matter how much Alex had pleaded with himself to understand what needed (had) to be done. Even through all the bullshit excuses, he still couldn’t make himself believe that he and Tess were somehow doing (done) the right thing. They were creating deception, even if they were doing it for all the right reasons, doing it to keep their loved ones safe. It still didn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at his stomach; churning inside of him, causing him to picture the grief his death would cause his friends. Grief they would forever be laden with. It was almost too much to bear. _Almost._

Alex couldn’t look at the wreck anymore. Turning his head back to Tess, he saw that she had made it about a mile up the road already. How long had he been lost in his thoughts? How long had been staring at that _fucking_ wreck?

Alex raised his hand slightly and waved sadly, as he watched Tess’s small form disappear from view. “Goodbye, Tess.” Alex mumbled softly, letting the tears he had held in since seeing the ‘Now Leaving Roswell’ sign, slip down his aching cheek, trailing through the dirt and dripping onto his dirty clothes. _Goodbye._

 

**_TBC..._ **


	2. Chapter 2

April 23rd, 2001 

A few hours later at the Crashdown

Maria sighed happily as she walked outside, taking out the diner’s garbage, to see that the weather had finally cleared up. Unable to resist, Maria spun lazily under the peeking sunlight. It was beginning to fade and turn dark, but some light still remained and had enough power for her to feel the sunrays beat down softly on her face. Maria hummed happily as she skipped lightly toward the dumpster.

 She was still on a nirvana-like high from last night. Maria had thought prom would be an extremely horrible experience in her life after discovering Michael with an older woman earlier that week. But a much needed explaining, along with Michael’s new – really bad – dance moves, not to mention his willingness to actually clean up nicely and humiliate himself in front of his peers, gave the night a magic all its own for her.

The night’s lingering enchantment still glinted in her eyes as she looked at her group of friends, still seeing how the night had played out for the others. It looked like Alex was finally going to get the girl of his dreams, as long as he played it cool and made her wait it out; it wouldn’t hurt Isabel to chase after him for a change. Maria had gotten to see Michael make a deliberate ass out of himself to make things right-- and it was all in the name of love. So, in other words, everybody’s fairy tale had come true that night… well, almost everybody’s.

Liz ended up with a broken heart when she had saw Tess and Max kissing in the hallway last night. Maria had immediately felt sorry for her best friend when she was told about it all, especially since Maria herself had been rattling on and on about how wonderful prom was.

But what could she do? She couldn’t shake Liz’s silly belief that everything would crumble if she told Max everything about future Max’s visit. And, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t make Tess disappear either. It was out of her hands; there was nothing she could do.

Maria’s thoughts were disrupted by the sound of Sheriff Valenti’s- that is, ex-sheriff’s-- size nine boots clunking loudly against the wet pavement. She would recognize his footsteps anywhere; his feet always moved with an authoritative stomp to them.

She turned around and smiled sweetly at Kyle’s father, the man who had helped them on a number of occasions to save their alien friends’ behinds. Not so long ago his help had even cost him his job as sheriff. Maria knew the hybrid’s felt guilty about the price the older Valenti had to pay to keep their secret. But, like everything else in her life, it couldn’t be helped. Maria knew it was no use getting all tied up in thoughts of ‘what if’s’; she was just  happy that they had a friend who was willing to sacrifice so much to keep them all safe.

“Here to see Kyle?” Maria asked as she raised her eyebrow. As much as she loved to see the older Valenti, she was a little unnerved by his presence. He hardly ever visited the Crashdown unless her mother or Kyle was in tow.

“Kind of,” the older Valenti replied shortly, glancing briefly toward his car, parked behind him. _He looks ready to bolt,_ Maria thought with some confusion. If she wasn’t unnerved before, she was now.

“Okay… he’s in the dining area.” Maria said warily, pointing to the back entrance.

“Okay.” Jim glanced briefly at the door in question before turning back to ask Maria, with a small smile, “You have fun at prom?”

“Yes.” Maria beamed. “I still can’t believe Michael showed up clean… and in a tux!” Maria exclaimed.

Jim nodded his head.

“But it’s not the first time Michael Guerin ever surprised me.” Maria shook her head and laughed…. _definitely not the first time._  

“I’m glad you had a good time, Maria,” Jim said politely. He was looking everywhere but at her.

“Yeah,” Maria said, concern lacing her vocal cords. Something wasn’t right. “I really had a good time, especially since I had front row seats to Michael’s lame attempts to get groovy with it.” Maria chuckled.

“Uh-Huh…” Jim said vaguely.

Maria chuckled again as the night slowly come back to her. She put her hands on her hips as she thought of another funny story from the previous night. “Especially when…”

“Maria…” Jim Valenti interjected. She was rambling excitably, obviously still on her high over having one perfect evening with all her friends and her boyfriend.

If he didn’t stop her right now, if he didn’t say what he had to… right then, he would probably never say it. “Maria…” Jim sighed, playing with his hands. “It’s Alex… He’s…” Jim trailed off, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, tears he had been holding in since seeing Alex’s burnt body at the accident site.

Maria suddenly felt even more uneasy than before; she didn’t like the tone of his voice. She didn’t like the barely contained misty look of his eyes. Then, suddenly, everything hit her like a lightning bolt, causing Maria to stumble back into the dumpster. “N-No.” She choked, holding her arms out to ward off Valenti’s unspoken words. _No! Please!_ She thought, trying to control her stubborn tears from falling down her face. _Please! Don’t say it!_ She pleaded silently, making her way to the back entrance to get to the kitchen and away from him. She knew what was coming. She could feel it, sense it, and she just prayed silently that the gods would show mercy on her… but then again, the gods had never been that kind to Maria DeLuca.

Mr. Valenti eyes followed her every footstep, still wearing that look of tearful heartbreak and desperation. He paused briefly, before saying suddenly, almost harshly, “He’s dead, Maria. Alex is dead.”

Maria’s reaction was almost instant. “NO!!!!” she yelled frantically, crashing through the back entrance into the kitchen door, then the dining area, into Liz’s confused but comforting arms. Max stood up abruptly at Maria’s uncommon and disconcerting entrance, sending her a mixture of looks, ranging from panic, concern, and slight annoyance.

Maria ignored him and buried her head deeper into Liz’s shoulder. Michael, on the hand, kept trying to get Maria to look at him and tell him what was wrong-- even at some point pleading with her to stop crying and tell him what was going on. But Maria couldn’t speak; she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to be touched by anybody but Liz, because Liz was the only one who could understand… the only one who could understand her pain. Maria felt like she was losing a part of herself, a part of her being. It had always been her, Alex, and Liz for so long, sticking together through any alien or human mess life threw at them. They were born being the three musketeers, born to always be together. _Always._

Jim immediately informed the other teens of the news; he had seen his mistake with Maria. He had taken too long, been too harsh. It was his own fault; he still hadn’t gotten over the shock of seeing Alex’s lifeless body being taken away by the coroners. They hadn’t even tried to revive him-- hadn’t even given his body a second glance-- before zipping it up; they said it was useless, he had been burnt too badly.

 As Jim Valenti told the others the news, Maria noticed, vaguely, the stoic expression on Tess’s face the entire time that Valenti was speaking. Then Maria went into hysterics, her sobs turning to screams.

Even after Liz had heard the news herself, she didn’t push her away; she just held Maria tighter… even when Maria started screaming at the ceiling. Michael tired frantically to get his girlfriend to calm down. Max looked away, stunned speechless. Kyle pulled Tess in for a hug. Isabel just wore a blank expression, either not registering anything… or not wanting to. The only time an expression briefly crossed her face was when Maria began her insane chanting, “Alex isn’t dead! Alex isn’t dead!” Even then, it was a cold and detached look; almost as though Isabel had gone into a permanent ‘Ice Queen’ state… not feeling anything.

Maria wished she could turn everything off like Isabel and just become numb, but every time she tried, it was like she only became more hysterical.  Every time she told herself not to think about it, it only made her think about it more… almost to the point that she truly believed she was driving herself insane.

 _He can’t be dead!_ Maria thought for what had to be the millionth time since Valenti had brought them the news. She began trying to pull away from Liz’s embrace, but Liz only held on tighter as Maria became downright crazy, _No! No! No! Alex can’t be dead!_ That was Maria’s last coherent thought before she blacked out into oblivion.

 

_**TBC...** _


	3. Chapter 3

With each passing moment, Isabel began to grow more and more impatient for Max to come out of the coroner’s van. She had spent the last half hour trying everything to keep herself from running over to the van, yanking the doors open, pushing Max out of the way and healing Alex her own damn self. She had done everything to keep herself steady from playing with her hair to rocking back and forth on the heels of her two feet… the latter had helped to settle the sudden hammering of her beating heart. For a little while she was able to breathe again, to feel normal… like everything would be alright if she just continued to rock back and forth. The rhythm helped her to forget, kept her mind from racing; it kept her head from filling with images… images of Alex. It kept her from remembering that he was dead … until Michael roughly put his hand on her shoulder and shot her a hard glare, causing her to crash back to reality.

Michael’s glare made everything come rushing back to her until everything came back tenfold. It made the cool air she was standing out in seem arctic and it made the street lights that shone down on the beige building of the hospital seem brighter. It made the standing, the endless waiting for Max to come out of the van … or for Alex’s body to be carted away… seem much more real than before. As she swatted Michael’s hand off her shoulder violently and pinched the bridge of her nose, she was hit with a sudden tidal wave of intense dread and desperation that made her almost double over but, at the last minute, she tapped into the defiant denial that had been fueling her since Valenti had given the news of Alex’s death to keep her standing.

Isabel decided to shut herself back down. She couldn’t handle the heightened sense of every feeling, every aura that swirled around her violently. She almost wanted to hate Michael for making everything real again; his hand remained her of memories she was trying to forget and emotions she had been successfully running away from. They came back like a brick that threatened to crush her. But she couldn’t make herself muster the energy to hate him; not when she knew that Michael was just as worried as she was.

Isabel took a deep breath and lifted her head to take in her surroundings once again… not that they had changed much since she had escaped into her own world for those brief moments. Everybody’s energy and aura was still the same, filled with desperation and an emotion that almost resembled heartbreak, but not quite. The only thing that had seemed to change was that everybody had surrounded the outer perimeter of the coroner’s van. They held hands, their breaths, or each other, but remained silent. She was the only one who was alone as they waited, hoping desperately that Max would come out with a smiling Alex Whitman, trying to make a lame attempt at making light of the situation, trailing behind him.

Isabel didn’t remember how they all had formed a huddle outside of the double doors of the van, but then again, she couldn’t really remember anything after Valenti had delivered the news. All she could remember, before they all sped away in Max’s jeep to the morgue, was Maria’s hysterical crying. It had taken Michael and Liz about an hour to calm Maria down enough to be able to get her into the jeep. Isabel hadn’t really been able to look at Maria, expect with brief glances, during the entire ride to the building. Every time Isabel even dared to sneak a look longer than a glance, she could still see the completely broken beyond repair look etched on Maria’s face and Isabel feared that, if she looked at it for too long, she would become just as broken too. _What if I am already broken?_ Isabel thought. _What if I become even more broken then….?_ Isabel’s thoughts were interrupted when she heard a loud gasp, which she could only assume was from Maria. Following her gaze, Isabel whipped her head in the direction of the van. Max was stepping out … without Alex.

Isabel began to hyperventilate. She couldn’t breathe, her breath was turning shallow. It felt like her life force had been knocked out of her. She could only imagine what her aura looked like right now, all muddy and marked with the black recognition of death. She wouldn’t be surprised if death was a part of her essence now… she felt like _she_ was dead. That was probably why Max was moving toward her first; her aura probably scared him the most. Her breathing became erratic at the sight of Max’s hands, reaching out to her. They were dripping with blood.  _Alex’s blood_ , Isabel thought, with a surreal sense of rationality. She could feel herself having a panic attack. It was all becoming too much. Max reached for her. The blood on his hands testified to the finality of Alex’s death; she knew he only wanted to comfort her, but she couldn’t stand to have him touch her right now, not with everything crashing into her… becoming real. Not when she was finally unable to tune out the roaring emotions that were threatening to drown her; she couldn’t stand anything right now… especially not Max, not after he had touched Alex’s bleeding, lifeless body. She just couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stand herself. So she ran away.

She ran from Max’s stunned and hurt face, she ran from his blood stained hands, from Alex’s rapidly cooling body…laying in the van, to be pushed away and opened up for inspection, like some kind of alien experiment. She ran from the memories that were trying to suffocate her.

 

_**TBC...** _


	4. Chapter 4

Tess began to fidget as Max slowly approached the entrance of the Coroner’s van, she felt like a brick was suffocating her with each inch he stepped nearer to the van. She had barely been able to breathe since leaving Alex back at that ditch, unable to keep the foreboding feeling from filling up her lungs as she walked back into town; but it wasn’t until now — at this very moment — that she realized everything was riding on her.

If she couldn’t pull off the plan, if she allowed herself to fail… then everything would fall apart.  She took a deep inhale to keep herself from laughing manically. She thought that destroying the car had been the most important moment in her life, but she was wrong—it was now. If she couldn’t make Max believe what she needed him to, then what happened next would bring its own danger. Everything that she and Alex had worked for would come crumbling down. Everybody she had grown to love might lose their lives. It was enough to make her want to break down and cry, but Tess stuffed her emotions back in; she couldn’t let them rule her, not now. Not if she wanted to do this right. Her focus had to be on Max’s being, his mind. She had to have all her wits about her to be able to connect with him, to be able to perform the mind-warp.

Tess forced herself to put everything into perspective. She knew how Max’s power worked and she knew how she had to proceed. She had to make Max believe he was touching Alex, connecting to Alex’s being, in order to make Max believe he was healing Alex that he was unsuccessfully healing. She wished she had more experience than she actually did in the use of her power. She had never attempted to use her power to this extent before. The closest she had ever been to that level of power she was trying to reach now was when Nicholas and the Skins had invaded Roswell; they had been so powerful, their minds so guarded, that she had been surprised that they hadn’t noticed an amateur like her had gained access to their brains.

But Nicholas and the skins had one fatal flaw which she was sure Max wouldn’t have: arrogance. The main reason Tess had been able to gain entrance to their minds in the first place was because they believed that no one could. She knew Max wasn’t _nearly_ arrogant enough for that scenario to work to her advantage and he was smart enough to know when someone was trying to control him, which made her job much more difficult. This wasn’t going to be like when she had first arrived in Roswell and had hacked into Max, Isabel, and Michael’s minds. 

She had initially been shocked at how easy it had been to crack into Max’s mind back when she had tried to make the others realize their destiny; the group would be surprised to know that Max had the mind of a child in the sense that, like a child, he had no clear definition of reality. Everything was about one thing. Whether it was in a realistic or fantasy sense was up to him but, just like a child, he had only one thought racing through his brain day and night: Liz Parker. When she had first tried to connect with Max, she had to immediately sort through his feelings and thoughts about Liz. They were so strong and persistent that, once she thought that she had gotten rid of one, another would bombard her as though Max’s love for Liz was his default. Like something he used to keep himself sane, planted firmly in the ground, Liz was all Max ever thought about. Maybe that was why Liz had been able to connect with him in New York, when no one else could?

Max didn’t know it, but by epitomizing Liz the way he did, his alien side had kicked in and decided to recognize the life source as his soul mate. He had bonded them to each other forever. He had made Liz more alien.

But, unlike last time, Tess wasn’t showing snippets of illusions. She was creating one that had to be believed, not only by him but by the group as well. So, in order to mind-warp him, Tess had to bypass that bond, break it, and replace Liz’s core with her own, in order to access that kind of depth to Max’s being. She really didn’t want to do that.

She didn’t want to become Max’s new soul mate. Actually, she had long ago abandoned the idea of being with Max. Max was just too in love with Liz and it was no fun being in love by yourself, if she really could call what she had once felt for Max ‘love’.

And, despite Liz and Maria’s refusal to accept her in any way, Tess still had grown quite fond of them both. Liz and Maria had something that Tess admired and somewhat adored— they both had drive and spunk, and an unbreakable will that Tess desperately wanted to possess.

 _Maybe today is the day I possess it?_ Tess shifted on her feet as Max opened the double doors of the van.  She was going to have to possess some kind of will, if she was going to make it through this. She didn’t have much of a choice. Her choice to decide had been taken from her the minute she had placed that book in Alex’s hands and asked him to decode it.

With a deep breath, she began to reach into Max’s mind. It took serious effort on her part, the bond had been stronger than she had originally thought, but she finally broke through. She was finally connected with Max Evan’s brain. When Tess finally cracked into someone’s mind, she saw what she could only describe as various strips of film racing through her closed eyelids. It was a film of their memories. Nasedo had told her a long time ago that the only way a human brain could process the data of their lives was through strips of film and, even though they were hybrids, their brains were no different than a human’s.

Max’s brain was no different. She still saw herself having to sort through Max’s film strips, looking for his memories of Alex. There weren’t many, or many that didn’t involve Liz or even Maria in some way, but she was able to find a few when Max had interacted with Alex by himself. They were minor ones, like small hellos in the halls of school, Max asking Alex for advice on how to impress Liz, or working on a ‘project’ for school or adventures of the alien kind… She wasn’t after the actual memories, but the feelings they produced, and Max’s general feeling about Alex was just that he was a good friend… and an even better friend to Liz.

It didn’t really give Tess much to go on; it was easier for her to warp someone’s memories of a person when they had a stronger connection to the object of the illusion; but the memories she found would have to do. She didn’t have much time. Taking another deep breath, she began to lock in on the selected memories she chose and twisted them, seeping the feelings those memories evoked, transferring those feelings to Max.

Tess could feel it as Max began trying to make a connection to Alex. It was a hesitant connection. She could feel the fear and slight disgust Max felt at having to touch ‘Alex’s’ lifeless body. She decided to use that to her advantage. If she could use those feelings coursing through Max right now, she could take them and use them to make the faint connection to the corpse Max was touching. Once she was sure that Max believed he was connected to the corpse, Tess began the process of taking the memories she had taken from Max and transferring them to the corpse laying on the stretcher in the van.

She and Alex had tried to mutilate and dismember the body they had decided would be the replacement for Alex’s.  But they couldn’t do the same to the corpse’s spirit, memories, and mind. The actual remnants of the corpse still possessed its core being; everything it felt, desired, and feared. She had to replace all those memories and fears with Alex’s… or illusions of Alex’s… desires, fears, and feelings. The flashes Tess knew he would receive from trying to healing Alex had to feel genuine. They couldn’t feel like flashes of some else’s life.

 _It doesn’t feel like **Alex**_. Tess picked up on Max’s uncertain thought and decided she had dive deeper into Max’s memories and pull out more that didn’t just involve Max and Alex. She pulled some images of Isabel, Liz, Maria, Kyle, herself, and even Michael… and added Alex’s essence to them and placed them into the lifeless corpse in the van, giving him a name: Alex. 

Tess could feel her head to begin to ache severely from the excess focus her mind was using on her power. She was exhausting herself so much that she was beginning to believe her own lies. That was never a good sign; her mind could only access her power for so long before it began to mess with her own memory strips, thus making the illusion become real to her too. If she wasn’t careful, she could be stuck in it forever. The pain got so bad that she could sense herself visibly shaking from it.

When Tess heard someone gasp, her attention was derailed, breaking the mind-warp. She began to breathe frantically, before the severe headache kicked in, she pushed the pain to the side. She didn’t know how long she had been able to hold on to Max’s mind, how long she had held the connection, or even if her mind-warp had lasted long enough to work. After looking around briefly at everybody, she was relieved to find that their faces were turned hopefully toward the van. After a minute, she noticed the hot flowing liquid dripping from her nose… it was blood, a clear sign that she had held on to the connection too long. She quickly wiped the trickle of blood from her nose before anyone else noticed, then turned her attention back to the van and noticed that Max had stepped out… without ‘Alex’ in tow.

Tess sighed in relief… _it worked._ She saw Max looking at her with an intense look of desperation; he looked lost, stunned.

 _It’s happening,_ Tess thought, _His soul was beginning to recognize her as his soul mate_. The realization made her want to puke. _What have I done?_ Tess thought.

He didn’t know which one of them to comfort first: Tess, Liz, or Isabel. He seemed to settle on the more logical choice — Isabel’s dark aura made Tess want to go and hug her, but she couldn’t move. Isabel made his choice easier for him as she stumbled away from Max, away from everybody _._

 _It must have been the blood dripping from his hands?_ That thought shook Tess so much that it took everything she had not to scream for Isabel to come back, that everything was going to be okay; that it wasn’t Alex’s blood. She wanted to tell her that he wasn’t dead; that he was still alive, but her mouth wouldn’t move.

Max looked stunned and little rejected, but he quickly recovered before he looked in Tess’ direction.

  _No, Max!_ Tess thought frantically. _Liz, Go to Liz!_

Tess couldn’t stand the idea of being touched right now. If she let him touch her, she feared that she’d just break down and tell everybody everything. She couldn’t afford that. It was too late to turn back now.

Almost like he could read her thoughts, Max turned and went to hug Liz, but she backed wildly from him. “Go after her, Max,” Liz said coldly. For a minute, Max was taken aback by Liz’s cold demeanor. She had hurt him with her distance. She had hurt him more than Alex’s cold body ever could.

“Yes, Max, go after her,” Tess said, letting the tears fall. She had been holding them in since she had left Alex back on the dirt road. “Isabel needs you.”

She wished silently for Alex’s safety. She wished for him to have made it to a safer location. But most of all, she wished that he was here right now.

 

_**TBC...** _


	5. Chapter 5

_“Are you really here?” A figured that looked a lot like Isabel asked._

_“No, you’re talking in your sleep.” Alex said more to himself than the illuminated figure sitting next to him. This wasn’t real. He must be dreaming… or Isabel had to be dream-walking him. Panic set in to Alex’s core; they couldn’t be found out now! Tess and he had worked too hard!_ _Alex scratched his eyebrow, trying to portray nonchalance.  He had to believe this was a dream, his mind playing tricks on him. He had worked too hard to believe anything else._

_“I wish I could talk to you.” Isabel said, tears streaming down her face. She placed her hand lightly on his, rubbing it with a kind of sensuality he hadn’t ever experienced from her when he was alive._

_“This is the next b-b-best t-thing.” Alex’s voice hitched when she placed a butterfly kiss to the palm of his hand. He decided to give in to the dream, give in to the fluttering in the pit of his stomach, and the sudden heat that sneaked up on him, threatening to burn him alive with its invisible flames. He reached out and caressed Isabel’s pretty… but heartbroken… face, kissing away her tears. Why couldn’t he have been this bold when he was alive?_

_“I feel like this is a-all my f-f-fault.” Isabel’s voiced croaked, holding onto his hands that cupped her face tightly._

_“What do you mean?” Alex’s brows furrowed in confusion. Then his confusion turned to anger. She couldn’t think…? “You think you had something to do with my death?” Alex spat, snatching his hand back from Isabel’s grip…cursing himself for the loss of warmth._

_Her heartbreak was replaced by a confusion that was the mirror of his own just moments ago, “Y-y-yes. Yes, I do,” Isabel moved closer. “If it… hadn’t been for me… if you hadn’t gotten involved with me… Maybe, you’d still be alive.” Isabel grabbed Alex’s hand again and placed it back on her face with_ _an insistence_ _that only Isabel could possess. She wasn’t going to have a moment without Alex’s warmth near her… part of her…. She wasn’t going to lose him ever again._

_Alex couldn’t muster the energy that he knew it would take to defy her… he couldn’t deny her, not when she was like this. Besides, he didn’t want to spend another moment without using this dream, his sudden boldness, to his advantage… but he wouldn’t stand for Isabel’s misplaced blame. “We both know that’s fucking bullshit, Isabel,” he squeezed her hand. “Everything we went through these past two years… every moment we shared together… whether they were good or bad…I wouldn’t trade them in for the world… because you are my world.” Alex pulled her closer, hugging her. He breathed in her scent: a mixture of jasmine and the woods, like she had the night they had stargazed in Frasier Woods. Sighing, he was overtaken by the sudden need to be closer. Oh, god! He missed this! He missed being close to her. He missed being the only one to ever see her bring her guard down. He missed her._

_“I’m sorry.” Isabel whispered, kissing his neck. She held him tighter._

_Alex_ _shuddered_ _. “I am too.” Alex whispered back. They stayed in each other’s embrace for what seemed like eternity, crying and holding each other.  He wished this dream could last forever._

_But it couldn’t…Alex broke the embrace. “I better go.” He wiped the tears he had shed and got up from his place next to Isabel. He took her in one last time before he made a move for the double doors of the Crashdown, but Isabel grabbed his hand._

_“What? No, don’t go,” Isabel pleaded, trying to pull him back into his seat._

_“This isn’t helping you.” Alex said firmly, tugging his hand._

_“I can’t… I can’t just let you go,” Isabel said. “Not when I already got you back.”_

_Alex turned away from her; he couldn’t look at her. Not when she was like this. “Isabel…” He paused. “I’m already gone.”Alex pulled his hand away. “I won’t be there when you wake up… and you will wake up.” He said coldly._

_“But will I see you again?” she asked._

_Alex shrugged. “I don’t know,” Alex turned his head back around. “I think that’s up to you.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead._

_Isabel held his head against hers, pulling him in closer. “I love you, Alex.” She kissed him with such intensity that it took everything he had not to completely break down. “I will always love you.”_

_“You will?” Alex asked, his voice laced with doubt. He had waited since the third grade to hear those words come out of her mouth, but now that they had; he wasn’t so sure he believed them. Isabel kissed him again, leaving no room for uncertainty. She left her mark. The mark of endless love._

_“Yeah… well… I love you, too.” Alex smiled, blushing. “Goodbye, Isabel.”_

***

Alex was wakened by a painful, vague pounding assaulting his temples. He opened his eyes and groaned as the offensive pounding grew more painful. He must have dozed off after the rain had finally let up and the paramedics and coroner’s vehicles had driven away; he hadn’t even realized how exhausted he had been until his eyes had drooped. Alex rubbed his temples lightly and looked around, trying to remember where he was. He was confused at first, until he remembered he had decided to stay down in the ditch after Tess’ small frame had disappeared into nothingness. He didn’t know why he hadn’t made a move to travel forward; that would have been the smarter choice, but he hadn’t felt safe leaving his hideout yet. So, he stayed … and had fallen asleep, it seemed.

As the drowsiness cleared, Alex was finally able to place the feeling that woke him up. It was an ache, a headache. There were cars passing by. Alex glanced at his aging Timex — it read: 1:45 AM. It was rush hour time for the truck drivers that used this road at all hours, using them as short cuts for their routes, but because of the rumored car wreck that had happened only hours ago, the main roads were even more piled up than usual. Alex turned sharply in the direction of the increasingly loud highway, sinking further into the ditch for better coverage if he still needed to be hiding. The ditch was small but it was also deep enough to conceal him from all the truck drivers, who would be scouting the area, looking to satisfy their morbid fascination with the death that had occurred here earlier.

Looking back, Alex could still feel the panic coursing through him. The panic from when the paramedics had come still hadn’t worn off, not even in sleep. He had feared being discovered then too. He could still feel the hard mud boulders digging into his stomach and ribs, leaving bruises as he covered his mouth, trying to stop his heavy breathing; trying not to alert them to his hiding place.

He could still remember the way he felt when the paramedics began searching his car for his body, until he remembered. Tess had covered that. He had been so wrapped up in his own turmoil that he had forgotten that he and Tess had been carrying a mutilated and dismembered corpse around with them in the front seat of his car the night before; she hadn’t explained how she had gotten it or who he had been and he hadn’t asked. He hadn’t wanted to know the name of the person whose head he had been sawing off.

Alex remembered the grim expressions as the paramedics explained to the new sheriff and Mr. Valenti that his body had been charred beyond recognition. How the head-on impact with the semi-truck had taken his head clean off. They had said that the only way that they had been able to identify the victim was in fact him, was by a picture. It was a picture with him, Liz, and Maria in it; he had always kept it on his dashboard. The paramedics handed Mr. Valenti the picture. He stared at it for such a long time that the paramedics had to politely ask for it back, before saying the only way they would be able to positively match Alex to the body in the car was by the pink slips of the totaled car.

Alex couldn’t help himself. He kept thinking, with a detached sense of wonder, that he had died a horrible death. He no longer had an identity. He was just a number now. Just another John Doe.

Valenti handed the picture to the new sheriff before asking a tall, wiry guy, who had called in the accident, questions as the paramedics began scooping the semi for life. He heard some faint, at times inaudible, yelling as one of the paramedics shouted to another paramedic to call the coroner over again—the truck driver was dead too. He didn’t know why, but a sharp pain invaded his heart when he had heard that. _He was killed because of us_ , Alex thought, rubbing his forehead as the pain in his temples became more intense. _He was dead_ _because of_ **me** _._

He wasn’t even over the State line yet, and he was already regretting his decision to go along with this plan. He missed his friends. He missed Roswell. He wanted to go back. He wanted to hug his father and mother, he wanted to go on forever hugging Isabel… like in his dream, whispering that everything was going to be alright. He wanted to turn back time and throw that damn book out the fucking window… but he couldn’t turn back time. He had to live with now; he had to live with what he’d done.

Alex couldn’t really remember anything after the coroner zipped up the truck driver’s body. He could vaguely hear some talking, more yelling—mainly from Valenti, some more zipping, and the sounds of a tow truck, but eventually everybody but him had disappeared into the night. Alex stayed.

He was frozen. He couldn’t move a muscle. The guilt of his actions was catching up to him, making his stomach turn. He began to dry-heave as the boulders continued to dig deeper into his sides, causing him great pain. He welcomed the discomfort. It seemed fitting, the pain. It seemed he should feel something besides guilt and numbness.

He eventually cried himself to sleep a few hours later. It was the most serene he had felt in months. He was glad he had gotten some peace. He guessed he wasn’t going to get much of that—or sleep— over the next couple of weeks, but it seemed even sleep eventually had worn out its welcome and lost its meaning when Alex was jolted awake by the sharp pain in his head. Alex continued to rub his aching temples, contemplating what to do next. It wasn’t safe here anymore. He needed to get out of Roswell. He needed to get to the next town or, better yet, another state. He decided he needed to leave.

Alex had barely climbed of the ditch before he doubled over in pain. _God! This headache!_ Alex held his head in both his hands before the pain began to get even worse … and then the images started.

Images began to flash through his head at lightning speed, so rapidly that he didn’t have time to process what was being seen. He couldn’t pinpoint anything that looked familiar… no image was something he knew from childhood or stood out to him. The only thing he did know was that they weren’t exactly _his_ memories, flashing through his head— they were **_of_** him —he saw himself with various members of the group but the memories seemed too forced. As though they were created by an outside hand; they all appeared too hazy and blurred out to be called old memories. There wasn’t one that he could remember properly. They seemed almost like a kaleidoscope of films — films someone was sorting through, picking certain strips, transferring and sucking the feelings out, until they became smoke of the brain, and then placing them in someone’s—his head— to call his own. The only thing Alex knew for sure was that these images were clearly from some else’s head; they were too distant and lacking his essence to be his.

 As the images continued to pass aggressively through his head, the ache in his temples began to build rapidly until he felt like his head was going to explode. His muscles began to spasm to a point that was almost debilitating. It felt like his mind was splitting in half; he could feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head. The pain soon became the only thing he could register. The pain was so bad that he could feel himself shaking from it, convulsing all over the place. All his limbs were in motion, his body flipping everywhere like a fish out of water. Everything was unfocused, blurred to a flash of pain. He was so out of it that he was unaware that he was bleeding from his nose. The blood dripped so profusely that it seemed to come out in streams. All he could remember after that was puking, before the pain became so intense that he fell back into the ditch and blacked out.

 

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

_Isabel pulled Alex closer, pressing his head against her forehead. “I love you, Alex,” She kissed him, her heart beating with the intensity of it. It took everything she had to let him go, she had to be strong. She’d see him again. “I will always love you.”_

_“You will?” Alex asked, raising his eyebrow in skepticism. His voice was laced with doubt. She gave him a funny look and rolled her eyes. Did he even have to ask? She had known from the night of the rave at the soap factory that he was the one. Isabel kissed him again, leaving no room for uncertainty. She’d love him till the end of time. She’d love him until she breathed her last breath._

_“Yeah… well… I love you, too.” Alex smiled, turning his head away in embarrassment. “Goodbye, Isabel” He took one more look at her before he turned away, disappearing into nothingness._

_“Isabel.” Someone called her. She didn’t listen. She just watched Alex leave with a sinking feeling filling up her stomach…. Because people always leave._

_“Isabel.” The voice became clear, louder as she crashed back into consciousness._

***

“Isabel.” Isabel didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to sleep. To sleep forever… with Alex by her side.

“Isabel, sweetie… honey, come on. Get up.” Isabel moaned, slowly opening her eyes. There was no use denying it. She couldn’t stop the inevitable… Her happiness was over.  “It’s time to get ready for the funeral.” Her mother said softly, stroking Isabel’s soft blonde hair. Isabel looked around, taking in her surroundings. She briefly glanced at the old alarm clock on her night stand beside her bed – It flashed red, reading: 1:42 PM. She turned back to her mother, blinking. She wasn’t in the Crashdown anymore. She was awake now, in the real world and that meant…

“It was just a dream.” Isabel said softly. She could feel the tears falling down her cheeks. She had only been dreaming. Nothing had changed; Alex was still dead. “No… It was just a dream.” Isabel gave in to her sadness, letting it overtake her. Yesterday came crashing back to her, each memory like a tidal wave of pain and loss, each feeling making her gasp for air. Nothing was different; the funeral was still today. Alex was still dead. She was still broken.

Isabel continued to cry as her mother cradled her in her arms, offering comfort that only a mother could.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Max huffed as he continued to fuss with his tie. He never had to wear a tie before today.  He always thought he wouldn’t have to wear one until the day he got married and then he would have his dad there to tie it for him and give him some last minute fatherly advice. But then again, things never really go according to plan, do they?

He never thought that he and Liz would barely be able to be in the same room as each other. He never thought that all he would think about would be that he couldn’t wait to see Tess again.

 He never thought that he would… have a dead friend. He never thought for one minute that one of them would end up dead… especially not Alex.

Alex was life itself. He kept everybody together, he kept them all grounded. He was the soul of this group. What was going to happen to them now that he was dead?  Were they going to fall apart?  He knew that his sister was having a hard time; he could hear her crying earlier that morning. Was she broken beyond repair? Was he?

Max looped his colored crimson tie through one last hole before looking into the mirror with slight satisfaction, laughing lightly. The red tie was lopsided, curving slightly to the left side but with one last touch, he left it alone; this was the best he was going to get it. He sighed lightly, a small smile crossing his face before he turned from the mirror and headed up the stairs to make a call.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Liz slowly turned her head toward the soft knock that sounded at her bedroom door. She blinked once, crashing back to reality; she had been in a stupor while dressing for the funeral. She wasn’t in any hurry; she hadn’t even gotten around to putting on her black blouse and the formal skirt that she had meticulously laid out on the foot of her bed the night before. If it was up to her, she wouldn’t be getting dressed… she wouldn’t even be going at all … but her mom had kicked up such a fuss that it just seemed easier to give in and go.  With a sigh, Liz got up from her spot at her computer desk and walked over to her door, getting ready to open it, but she stopped herself… and looked into the mirror hanging off her door frame; she was still in her underwear and bra. Liz laughed a little crazily at that.

Liz rubbed her eyes, delirious; her sleepless night was finally catching up with her. Everything was finally catching up to her. She kept running what had happened through her head all night long; the annoying questions ripping through her head filled her with rage and desperation. Could she change the pain in her harden heart? She doubted it. Was Alex really dead? Probably. Was it Max’s fault Alex was being put into the ground today? She couldn’t answer that. Her head, the logical part of her body, told her that it wasn’t anyone’s fault… that Alex had gotten his head smashed in by an oncoming semi… but her heart… her heart wasn’t so sure of Max’s innocence. A part of her… a big part… wanted to blame Max for everything. She wanted to blame Max for saving her life that day at the Crashdown but not being able to save Alex’s. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate everybody… especially herself.

A hard knock brought Liz back to the present and she opened the door; her mom was standing on the other side. “Mom…” Liz said, staring blankly at her mother’s small frame standing outside her bedroom door. Neither knew what to do; her mother had never been good at showing Liz affection or comfort. She had never really been good with feelings. Her mother had never once told Liz she loved her… and when she needed the emotional support from her parents the most… Liz didn’t get it. She didn’t want it. To break the uncomfortable silence between the two, Liz handed her mother the dress jacket she was going to wear to the funeral. “Iron this.” Liz demanded softly.

Her mother blinked at her, taken off guard. She hadn’t expected that. She said, “Liz… Max is on the phone.” Nancy Parker shifted her left hand to take Liz’s dress jacket with a gentle hand and handed Liz the cordless phone. Liz took it with hesitant hands and lightly closed the door behind her. Liz brought the phone to her ear. _“Liz,”_ came Max’s deep voice over the phone line. Liz stared out the window over her computer desk, unmoving.

 _“Liz… Are you there?”_ Liz gripped the phone tighter. A blue-jay flew by her window. It was beautiful.

Liz could hear Max sigh on the other end of the line. _“Liz… Liz, please… Liz, come on… Talk to me.”_

Liz moved her mouth but nothing came out. She wanted to say something, she really did. She wanted to squash the quiet desperation that came over the line in Max’s voice… but she couldn’t; the hate coursing through her was too intense. She couldn’t comfort him… he didn’t deserve it.

 _“Liz….”_ The desperation in Max’s voice was almost tangible. _“What’s happened to us? I love you and I know you love me… I wish you’d come back… I wish you’d love me again…”_  

Liz glared at the phone. The rage kept building within her. How dare he! How dare he make a fool of her? She believed in him! She gave him her heart and he threw it away to have a one off with Tess!  _“Liz! Liz! Talk to me!”_ She couldn’t take it anymore and, shaking with rage; Liz hung up the phone and smashed it against the wall.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Tess watched as the thick crimson traces of blood washed down the drain of the Valenti’s’ shower. She had never felt so tired in her life, so washed up. She felt like everything, anything she had left inside herself had gone down the drain along with it. She had nothing, she was nothing but herself… and she didn’t even want that. Tess continued to wash the blood off her face; she’d had a hard night. She hadn’t slept, not a wink. Everything kept rushing through her head, panic overriding every reasonable emotion or explanation. She couldn’t help but think that she was a bad person. How could she lie like this? Like it was so easy, like she had no empathy, no morals… just self-preservation. She could have kept thinking that she had done everything she did for her friends, for their safety… but was there a small part of herself… a tiny bitty part of her… that had done it more for herself?

 Her headache had continued to get worse over the night. The pain was so bad that, at one point, she had to keep herself from screaming in agony out of fear of waking Kyle and Mr.Valenti… and then the blood started… and the images.

It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t her.

It was like everything just kept spiraling out of her control. She didn’t know who she was anymore. It was like she owned nothing now. It was like Destiny all over again, with _her_ stuck in a corner, caged. She couldn’t think for herself. Once again she was being forced into a life she hadn’t asked for. Freedom all too far out of reach. Everything she had done to find herself was gone… She didn’t even know herself anymore. Why was this happening to her?

Why couldn’t everything go back to the way it used to be? With everybody being safe. Everybody a family again. When had everybody picked sides? Turning on each other?  Why _Me_? Why am I still here?

She didn’t have any answers for her questions. She didn’t have anything anymore. Tess watched as the last traces of blood flowed down the drain.

It might as well have been her too. 

 

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

Michael held Maria’s hand as he turned the key in the ignition. He carefully picked up the map off the dashboard and read the directions the Whitmans had given to all of them earlier that week; they were simple enough since Alex was being buried at the local Roswell cemetery. It was only about six miles up the road from Maria’s house.  He sighed, holding Maria’s hand tighter. It all seemed simple enough but… yet… it wasn’t. He hadn’t experienced a time in his life where everything was as complicated as it was now.

Nobody was speaking to each other… the tension that had been building all week between Max and Liz was completely unbearable and nobody, especially him, wanted to be around it.  Everybody was starting to pick sides and it seemed that Max’s side was winning; it felt like one of those Sunday morning cartoons where the bad guys fought against the good guys or vice versa. Right now, it was Aliens vs. Humans and Aliens were winning. But that wasn’t the worst of it, at least not to Michael, the worst was that Liz had been cutting Maria off and it was hurting her.

Maria needed her friend. She needed Liz. Michael had been trying to be everything Maria needed right now, but he could feel himself failing. He just wasn’t good at this kind of stuff. He didn’t do feelings and this situation just reeked of it…. Feelings he wasn’t even really feeling himself.

Sure, he missed Alex. He was a good friend, he was a loyal friend and, for a small period of time, Alex had helped him through a rough patch in his and Maria’s relationship. He was grateful for the time he had gotten to know the fair-haired lanky boy…but he wasn’t suffering from the loss… not like Maria was. How could he help Maria when he simply didn’t understand what she was feeling? It made him feel like a horrible person… He didn’t understand what _he_ was supposed to be feeling… He hadn’t been close to Alex…. and now he would never be. He felt like he had missed out on something great by keeping his distance, but then he’d look at Maria’s heartbroken face and everything everybody else was going through… and then he’d feel happy that he had never really known Alex.

“Michael…” Maria said, breaking Michael out of his daze. He hadn’t realized he had been staring off into space.

“Yes?” Michael said, backing out of the driveway of Maria’s house.

Maria didn’t speak for awhile; she continued to stare out of the window for what seemed like forever before she said. “Remember… don’t go over eighty; the Jetta’s engine can’t take it.” Maria paused, buckling her seat belt. She always did that now since Alex’s accident; she always buckled her seat belt now. “You know you’re driving sucks.”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said, a small smile played across his lips. This conversation seemed familiar. “What exactly is wrong with my driving?”

Maria smiled too. She also remembered having the same conversation before. “You do have a tendency to drive erratically.” Maria laughed a little. So did Michael…. But the happiness didn’t last for long; Maria sobered up a few minutes later and went back to looking out her window.

“Michael…” Maria said about a mile away from the funeral home.

“Yes, Maria?”

“You know I love you, right?”

 Michael turned his head sharply at her admission. She wasn’t looking at him… she was still looking out the window. Michael took a deep breath; he didn’t know what to say to that. He had never thought about it before. He didn’t know how he felt about her declaration. He knew Maria had loved him long before she had ever said it… but did he love her back? He had deep feelings for her; he always had, but were they deep feelings of love? He didn’t think so. He didn’t think he was capable of it. Love was another emotion he just didn’t understand.

Michael turned his head back to the road ahead and sighed, “I know you do.” He believed her; Maria never said anything she didn’t mean and, for once, he was grateful for it. He was okay with somebody loving him. Somebody had to.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

After smashing the phone against the wall, Liz hastily got the rest of her clothes on and bolted out the door, leaving her stunned mother and father behind. It wasn’t right! It wasn’t fair! How could Max just heap all of that onto her and expect everything to be okay? Nothing was okay, not between the two of them; it hadn’t been for awhile and now…. It never would be.

Liz slammed her parents’ car door and jammed the keys into the ignition. She revved out of the driveway of the Crashdown, raising some eyebrows from the neighboring stores. She didn’t know where she was going and she didn’t care. She quickly forgot the directions to the funeral home out of her mind. She wasn’t going to the funeral; she couldn’t deal with anybody right now, especially not Max, not in the mood she was in. She’d probably end up killing him.

Liz just continued driving, zooming down the main roads of Roswell. She hoped she wouldn’t get pulled over; the last thing she wanted was to deal with the police. If she got pulled over in Roswell, then Valenti would find out and he would tell everybody else and she could do without another lecture from Max.  She took a quick look at the speedometer and realized she was going about ninety miles per hour. She smirked bitterly and pushed onto the gas pedal, ignoring the angry honks as she ran every red light that came her way. What gave her the right to live when Alex couldn’t? She was taking justice into her own hands. Everything would be righted again… Everything would go back to normal if she just got into a car accident … like Alex.

Living was becoming a chore to her now. Liz was tired… she was so sick and tired of feeling. She wanted to shut off the emotions coursing through her. Every moment she was awake, she felt like she was just gasping for air. Trying to be normal, trying not to be afraid anymore. She didn’t want to run anymore. She was just so sick and tired… that she prayed someone as stupid as she was would just run a red light.

Liz continued with her game of chicken until she was content and, about fifteen minutes short of running every red light, she found herself in a familiar place, a safe haven; a place that had once been like a second home.

She found herself stopping right outside of Alex’s house.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The service was beautiful. Perfect, really. Nothing was out of place. Everybody from town was proper, offering their deepest regrets, saying that it was unfair someone as loved and talented as Alex had to die so young. They hugged the grieving parents and gave their best wishes to all of his friends and family and…. Isabel wanted to slap every last one of them. How dare them! They had no idea how any of them were feeling! They hadn’t known Alex, not like she had.  Alex had never been popular, at least not with the kids at school. He was too sweet and caring to fit into the world of high school, not like her. They were the reason she was most pissed. How could they say that they were so sad to see him go when they hadn’t even been sad not to have known him when he was alive?

As people began to clear out, Max reached out for her hand but Isabel didn’t take it… she wanted to stay. She didn’t want to leave with the others. She just couldn’t bring herself to leave Alex. Max understood; it seemed like he wanted to be alone anyway. He said he would be back for her in an hour. She only half-listened… she didn’t care if he ever came back. She didn’t care if she was never thought of again. Why should she be remembered when Alex would be buried underneath the ground and forgotten… left to rot… alone?

Isabel dropped to the ground, unable to hold herself up anymore. Nobody was around; she didn’t have to pretend anymore. She let all her emotions finally take over her, every emotion she hadn’t allowed herself to feel all week was finally washing over her. She sobbed violently, unable to stop herself. Why did he have to die? Was this God’s way of punishing her… because she wasn’t normal? Was she being punished because she was an alien? She knew she was being irrational, God wasn’t that cruel, but her heart didn’t understand… She felt like she was in some alternate universe… she was in hell and every day was a day where every moment meant torturing her. She felt broken; her heart torn in two. One half was soon to be hidden underneath six feet worth of dirt and the other… was lost among all the other things that Isabel had misplaced along the way in her eighteen years of life. She didn’t know where it was. Maybe it was buried underneath the house keys she had lost back in the sixth grade or stuffed in her drawer where she hid all the love notes horny boys had sent to her over all the years? Who knew? Maybe it was lost in space?

Sobbing harder, Isabel hugged Alex’s coffin. She wanted to be close to him, closer to her heart. She wanted to be buried side by side with him. She wanted to die.

She was dead inside anyway; she might as well be buried along with him.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

 

Max drove his jeep deep into the desert. He had to clear his head. He didn’t exactly know where he was going; he guessed he would end up where he usually did whenever he drove into the desert; near the pods. The pods were like a force of nature, drawing him in. No matter where he was or who he had become, the pods reminded him where he came from. He’d always remember that he was an alien. It was kind of hard to forget but, then again, he supposed he didn’t want to.

Max stopped his car about a mile away from the pods and decided to walk the rest of the way. The entrance to the pods was too narrow to drive up and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. It was a rare day in the desert; the air was cool and moist. He could feel the cool breeze flow through his styled hair and pass along his face. Cool air was a rare luxury in New Mexico and Max took advantage of it. He lingered outside the rock door that hid the pod chamber, letting the breeze flow over him. He took out a pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Smoking had become his dirty little secret, a vice that nobody knew about… Well, Alex had known. He could never really hide anything from Alex. The boy was just too observant.

Taking out his cell phone, he decided to dial Liz’s cell number again for the fifth time today. He prayed that this time she’d answer. He was so worried about her. She hadn’t shown up at the funeral. After she hung up on him earlier today, he had expected her to be angry; he also expected her to ignore him all day, but he hadn’t expected her not to show up. It was disrespectful and that was something that Liz just wasn’t… or so he had thought.

Max couldn’t help himself; he kept running through every worse scenario that came into his mind. Was she hurt? Was she lying in a ditch somewhere? Had she left Roswell? She had threatened to leave Roswell during one of their arguments earlier that week but he hadn’t taken her seriously; maybe he should have. 

He lit his cigarette as he waited for Liz to answer the phone, but as he expected… he only got her answering machine. _“This is Liz Parker’s phone. Sorry, I missed your call but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to as soon as I can. Bye.”_ He took a drag of his cigarette as he angrily waited for the beep. He was sick and tired of this shit! He couldn’t keep worrying about her for the rest of his life! Liz was a big girl, she could look after herself… she didn’t need him on her heels.

He couldn’t keep trying to find something, anything. He didn’t know what… but he felt if he could just find all the right answers … then maybe, just maybe… Liz would come back to him. _The_ Liz, the beautiful Liz Parker he had fallen in love with all those years ago… but with each day, with every fight, or every resentful glare… Max was giving up. He no longer had hope of ever seeing that girl again. Max rubbed his forehead, frustrated. He hung up the phone.

He wasn’t going to do this anymore. He wasn’t going to worry anymore. He was done. Liz was nothing to him now.

Snuffing the cigarette out, Max stuffed his cell phone back into his back pocket and decided it was time to head back to the jeep. He had to go pick up his sister.

She was someone who was worth his concern.

 

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

Liz ignored her ringing cell phone; it was probably just Max again and she didn’t want to deal with him. Pressing the ignore button on her phone, she drove her car up the narrow driveway and parked in front of the Whitman residence. She didn’t care if she looked out of place in the near empty neighborhood. They were all at the funeral right now, the funeral for somebody that few of them even took the time to get to know. So who were they to judge her for not showing up?

Even if they had the nerve to judge, Liz wasn’t going to feel bad. She was where she needed to be, not at the funeral. She felt that she was sent there for a reason. Maybe she could find something…anything… to prove everybody wrong. There had to be something to prove that she wasn’t crazy or a heartless bitch, or merely in denial… because somewhere in Liz’s heart, she didn’t believe that Alex was dead…. Because If Alex was _really_ dead… then she would be worse off than she was now.

Closing the car door gently to keep from drawing attention, Liz walked up the rest of the Whitman’s driveway and to the left side of the house. She had never been through this side of the house before.

 Liz laughed bitterly. _That might be because I never had to sneak into Alex’s room until now._

The back yard was scattered with the litter of toys that had turned yellow with age, toys that Alex must have played when he was a little kid… The grass was overgrown; it looked like it had stopped being mowed around the time that Alex had abandoned the toys. Weeds had overtaken the once bountiful rose garden.

 Liz could still remember the summer Alex’s great-aunt had came to stay. She could still feel the hot Roswell summer sun beating down upon her nine-year-old face as his great aunt Maggie had forced her, Alex, and Maria to help her plant rose bushes in the back yard. Liz laughed as the memory overtook her, like a tidal wave of happiness. It was a feeling that now felt alien to her.

They all had been miserable that day… planting roses wasn’t exactly a nine-year- old’s idea of a good time. Liz could still hear Maria complaining about how all the sun was going to turn her skin into leather as if it had happened yesterday and not seven years ago; she could still remember Alex making some lame joke that caused Maria to slap him on the shoulder while Liz just rolled her eyes as she went back to planting the flowers…but it hadn’t been all bad. Alex kept making funny faces behind Aunt Maggie’s back, causing Liz and Maria laugh and, once they finished planting the roses, Aunt Maggie was so impressed with their diligence that she gave each of them ten bucks to spend on whatever they wanted. Alex brought a new issue of Spider-Man, Maria bought some fancy healing rocks to add to her then growing collection, and Liz… well, she didn’t buy anything; she just stuffed the ten dollar bill deep into her jeans pocket and began to think up ideas for Christmas.

Liz shook her head, chasing the memory away. She had to keep her mind focused. After a few more minutes of walking and strolling through more memories that the back yard awakened, she finally found herself standing outside of the window of Alex’s bedroom. She sighed with relief; she didn’t know if she could handle any more of the memories that Alex’s back yard provoked. She didn’t even bother to see if the window was unlocked before she slid the window up with one hand and climbed through; Alex always kept his window unlocked.

She was finally in Alex’s room and she found herself almost saying, “Alex, I swear to God… if you make a joke about this, I’ll kill you!” But at the last second, Liz stopped herself. Sadness overtook her when she realized what she almost did. It was like she had expected his stupid ass grin to be beaming at her when she had climbed through the window. She had really, for a moment, been ready for him to make some lame ass joke about her being so unable to resist him that she had to climb through his window, but the joke would never come and she wouldn’t need to kill him… He was already dead.

Liz hesitated before deciding to do what she had come to do. She began to look around and immediately felt a different air in the room. It seemed lifeless, like it was lacking something essential now… a loss of essence. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but she had a feeling that she knew what it was… Alex’s smiling face.

Liz cursed herself. When did she become so damn stupid? She felt like smacking herself. She rubbed her face before she began to rummage through his drawers. She wasn’t looking for anything specific… she just wanted find _something_. _Anything_ , to prove she was right… that she wasn’t off her rocker. She knew in her heart that Alex was alive out there… or he had been murdered. The suicide bullshit that Valenti had been shoving down all their throats all week was a lie. She knew her friend and he would _never_ commit suicide. He loved life way too much. 

Slamming a dresser drawer shut, Liz turned her attention to Alex’s computer desk and began to sift through the stuff on there, opening and closing drawers. She hadn’t found anything very important so far, just normal teenage boy stuff. She even found a Playboy hidden underneath a stack of old graded papers and smirked when she saw that. She had almost given up on the desk altogether when her fingers closed over a velvet box and she pulled it out. It was in the shape of a heart… probably some failed attempt to give Isabel a Valentine’s Day gift this year. Liz rolled her eyes, ‘ _Only Alex would think a heart shaped box was romantic’._ Thinking on it, he was probably right; she would most likely swoon a little if she had seen Max pull out a heart shaped velvet box for her back in the day _._ God, she had been such a foolish girl!

She opened the box, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at the sparking object. It was a ring, a wedding ring! What was he doing with a wedding ring? Had he thought of…?

Liz took the ring out of the box and gripped it tightly, holding it in her sweating palms. She didn’t finish her thought; everything was coming back to her.  She was beginning to remember a conversation that she and Alex had on a sunny day, one month ago.

\-----

_“I got this in the mail today.” Alex said proudly, carefully unfolding the wrapping paper to reveal a book. It was normal looking, commonplace book and Liz couldn’t understand why Alex was so excited until she looked closer. It was a book of poems… the full collection of Robert Frost’s best poems. Robert Frost was Alex’s favorite poet._

_“Really?” Maria said, giddy with excitement for her friend. “Who’s it from?”_

_“Leanne.” Alex said. He was beaming. He radiated life, looking like he had just won a million bucks. Maybe he had? Liz felt a small twinge of jealously… she remembered when she had once looked like she had won a million dollars too… back when Max still loved her and only her.  “Oh, your Sweden tryst?” Liz teased, trying to ignore the ache in her heart. This wasn’t about her pain; this was about Alex’s happiness._

_Alex bowed his head at her joke and blushed furiously. Liz raised her eyebrow. What was wrong with him? She was just joking._

_“Oh. My. God.” Maria covered her mouth to hold in a squeal. “You really did sleep with her.”  Liz rolled her eyes. Leave it to Maria to be dramatic and take things too far._

_“No!” Alex lied, blushing even more than before. He basically just sealed his own fate, Alex was a terrible liar._

_“Oh, my God! You did!” Liz yelled with disbelief. She had never thought that Alex would lose his virginity to anyone but Isabel. Just another example of how things never went the way you expect them to._

_Alex threw his hands up in defeat. He already knew he wasn’t going to win this one. “Fine!” Alex slumped in his chair. “Yeah, I slept with Leanne.”_

_“I fucking knew it!” Maria squealed, bouncing on her side of the bed._

_“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Liz, a little hurt. Alex never kept anything from them._

_“Because I was trying to avoid this!” Alex gestured toward Maria, who was doing some kind of funny dance on her side of the bed. Liz pinched the bridge of her nose; she loved Maria but…_

_“Point taken.” Liz shook her head. Sometimes Maria was just too much. Alex shook his head in agreement. The two laughed when Maria almost fell off the bed while trying to do what could only be described as a hip bend._

_Maria rolled her eyes at their laughter. “I got to go.” She groaned, getting off the bed. “I promised I’d help my mother close up shop. You need a ride, Liz?”_

_She shook her head; she wanted to hang with Alex. She had some more questions. “No, Alex will take me home.”_

_Maria nodded her head and picked her keys off Alex’s desk. “Okay. Bye, my beautiful girlfriends.”_

_“I resent that!”Alex sounded insulted, but he was smiling. “I’m not a girl.”_

_Maria rolled her eyes again. “Whatever,” she said as she opened the bedroom door. “You know you love it.” She ruffled Alex’s hair before she walked out of the door and closed it behind her._

_“When did she stop taking me seriously?” Alex asked, smiling as he fixed his hair._

_“When did she ever?” Liz answered back._

_“Good point.” Alex got up from his desk chair and sat on the bed next to her, taking Maria’s old spot. He stared at the present with an odd look on his face._

_Liz gently took the present that Leanne sent out of his hand, “Does this mean you’ve given up on Isabel?” Liz asked, holding the book up to Alex’s face to make her point._

_“I don’t know.” Alex swatted the book out of his face. “I love her… I love them both… but for different reasons…” He paused briefly; turning his head toward his bedroom window. Liz could tell that he was hiding something; he could never look at her when he wasn’t being honest.  She’d figured him out too easily._

_He rubbed his hands nervously. “I’ve loved Isabel for as long as I can remember; my love for her is just a part of me now … but with Leanne… We just have more in common and she doesn’t jerk me around.”_

_Liz nodded in agreement. She loved Isabel… but the girl was as fickle as one person could be. It wasn’t like Liz couldn’t understand why; Max had been hot and cold a lot in the beginning too… but this was different. Alex was too… Alex.  She shouldn’t be hurting him … no matter what her reasons were._

_The two friends sat in silence for the next half-hour, deep in their own thoughts before Alex broke the silence with, “I’m thinking about proposing to Isabel by the end of the school year.”_

_Liz was stunned, she hadn’t expected that… but she should have. Alex was a total romantic. He believed in soul mates, he even believed in fate. And she had too… once upon a time._

_“I can see you doing that.” Liz laughed. She was a little bitter. She always thought that her and Max would be married after their senior year… and when future Max confirmed her dream… it made it all even worst. That dream was never going to come true now._

_“Just… Don’t tell Iz, alright,” Alex pleaded softly. “I don’t even know if I’m even going to attempt to buy the ring.”_

_“I won’t.” Liz would never betray Alex’s trust. “I promise.”_

_“But I better be your best man if she says ‘yes’.” Liz said, smacking Alex’s shoulder playfully._

_“What about Maria?” Alex asked, rubbing his shoulder in mock pain._

_“You kidding me!” Liz smiled. “She’d kill you if you made her wear a tux… but me on the other hand…I’m…”_

_Liz didn’t finish before Alex said, “Dying to wear men’s clothing,” He teased._

_“Yep.” Liz said. “It’s always been on my bucket list. I always wondered what it was like to walk around in men’s boxers.” The two looked at each other and burst into laughter._

_After a few moments of intense laughter, Alex turned toward Liz with an intense storm brewing in his eyes that Liz had never seen before and he asked, “Do you think she’d say yes, Liz?”_

_Liz turned away and mulled it over. She could see Isabel easily saying no… but a part of Liz thought that Isabel Evans would never find any other man who could love her like Alex. A part of her knew that Isabel knew that too. “She’d be stupid not to marry you.” Liz said, resting her head on his shoulder._

_Yep, she’d be stupid not to marry Alex Whitman._

\------

 “You’re an idiot, Alex,” Liz spat, jamming the ring back into the box and throwing the box back into the drawer. He was stupid if he thought it was going to last… Love never lasts… especially with someone like Isabel Evans. “A fucking idiot.” Liz couldn’t tell if she was telling herself that more than a dead Alex.

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to rein in her emotions. She sat in the desk chair, slumping against it. She grabbed the book of poems that Leanne had sent which had been left on Alex’s desk, alongside his computer. Liz flipped through the pages with an absent mind; she didn’t expect to find anything in there. She just needed something to keep her mind from wandering to old flights of fancy. Rummaging through poems she had heard a thousand times was better than trying to think up a thousand ways to kill Max Evans.

Liz ran her finger down the smooth page of the table of contents, looking for a specific poem… Alex’s favorite poem. She scanned the left side of the page, looking at the page numbers and found what she was looking for. It was on page two-hundred and forty-two. She began flipping through the pages and found the page number. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she read the altered page of the poem.

The first segment of the poem was taped over with a letter that covered most of it, but she could still see traces of the words through the loose-leaf paper that covered it. The letter was written in sloppy-block letters on a piece of college ruled paper that had been torn in half and taped onto the top half of the page. The rest of the poem was highlighted with a faded-purple marker. Liz didn’t pay any attention to the lazily written letter on the top and decided to read the only segment of the poem that was visible, she cleared her throat and began to read out loud:

_“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,_

_But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep_

_And miles to go before I sleep.”_

Liz’s voice choked on the last sentence of the poem; this was no coincidence… this was Alex’s favorite poem. He had tortured her and Maria with it a million times before. She sat up, a bizarre sense of excitement humming in her veins, but she still had to briefly close her eyes to fight against the tears that wanted to fall before she lifted her eyes upward to read the letter that had been taped on the top.

**_Dearest Liz,_ **

**_I can’t explain much in this letter. If truth be told I’ll be surprised if they don’t think to look in this book for anything first but understand… they will try to make my death look like a suicide. Don’t believe it!!!_ **

**_I am enclosing here something on the next page that I trust only you with. You cannot share this with anyone else in the group, not even Maria. The reason I trust you and only you with this information is because I know you will see right through anything that comes your way, through any ploy and I know that you will stop at nothing to get to the bottom of my murder._ **

**_Good-bye Liz, and be safe. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer… you never know… maybe your enemy may be someone you are already close to._ **

**_Love, Alex_ **

Liz continued to stare at the letter long after reading it. Murdered? Alex was… murdered. She turned to the next page, reading the title of the poem, it was ‘Fire and Ice’… another poem Alex adored.  A line of the poem was underlined numerous times with the word ‘destruction’ emphasized. There was some kind of code written underneath all the lines.

“01001100-01100101-01100001” she mumbled out loud, confusion once again washing over her. She didn’t know what it meant. Was it some kind of computer jargon? How was she supposed to figure this out if she couldn’t understand it? Her frustration grew; the answer was right on the tip of her tongue. She could have sworn that she had seen this. This type of code was familiar. She’d seen Alex working with it before. It was… it was…Binary code! Liz jumped a foot in the chair. ‘ _This must be some kind of location!’_ she thought, ‘ _but what is it?’_ Maybe she should try Alex’s computer.

She turned on the computer and, after a few minutes, she began typing the numbers into one of Alex’s computer programs; she was sure of the program, sure that the program she was using was the one most likely to help her because she could remember him telling her about some kind of software he had designed while he was in Sweden. It was just luck that she had actually been listening to him that day when he went into his computer mode and had caught the name of it. She waited impatiently as the program processed the numbers she had typed in and… a few seconds later, a name popped onto the computer screen over and over again, filling up the small computer with one name. A name she had been hearing a lot since Alex’s trip ended. The name was Leanne. Liz covered her mouth and a numb sense of shock filled her body, sending her into overload with all the possibilities that began to cloud her head. Was it possible…?

Liz reached into the side pocket of her blue jeans and took out her cell phone. She found Max’s number and dialed it. He picked up on the fifth ring.

 _“Yes?”_ he said with an edge to his voice. He didn’t sound too happy to hear from her. She shrugged her shoulders at his greeting. She didn’t care. She wasn’t happy to be talking to him either.

“Have everybody meet me at Alex’s house, in Alex’s room. I have to talk to you guys,” Liz said with a blank tone to her voice. Everything hadn’t sunk in yet… but she knew one thing: everybody needed to know… What? She couldn’t tell anybody about what she found, so what could she tell them? She didn’t know, but she’d figure it out when everybody got there.

Max didn’t answer right away, and it made Liz angry. She rubbed her forehead in frustration. She didn’t have time for this. “Max…” she said through clenched teeth.

 _“Fine,”_ He finally said. There was a defeated tone to his voice. _“I’ll tell everybody to meet you.”_ She didn’t wait to for him to say anything else before she hung up. 

She threw her phone onto the desk; the clunk sound the phone made echoed through her head as she went back to staring at the computerized name that flashed on the screen. She finally found what she was looking for; she finally had something to rub into Max’s self-righteous, self-serving face… so, why didn’t she feel happier?

 

**TBC...**


	9. Chapter 9

**_I’m in Stark, Arizona. Call me from this number--541-222-0919-- at the old pay phone on the back road of Chestnut and Kindle Avenue on the 29 th at 9:00PM._ **

**_P.S. Don’t forget to bring a dollar fifty for the pay phone. Talk to you soon._ **

Tess ran her fingers over the neatly written note on the back of a postcard she had gotten in the mail earlier that week; the letters flashed in her head, playing over and over again for the hundredth time, every word, every sentence until they were embedded into her memory. There was no return address, but it was still too risky to keep the card for much longer; she was probably going to have to burn it later tonight. She decided to scan the card yet again; she didn’t want to forget anything.

The brief note was written in a sloppy form of cursive, obviously not the owner’s original handwriting. Tess would bet anything that the writer had disguised his handwriting too, if the lopsided positioning of the sentences was anything to go by.

Tess carefully turned the card over to the front. There was nothing special there. It didn’t really give anything away, just the name of some town called Stark in North Dakota written… in bold red, white, and blue. Tess smiled a little as she re-read the note again; he was smarter at this than she thought he would be. He didn’t mention his name, any real address, and the number he gave her was probably to either a pay phone in the area or to a disposable cell phone. The point was that neither was traceable.

The author of the note was also smart enough to tell her to use the old pay phone on Chestnut and Kindle. It was an aging thing that looked like something out of the sixties and even had an out of order sign hanging from it, but it was a well known fact among the teens of Roswell that it had been fixed years ago by some traveling drug dealer who used it to sell smack without getting caught by the local police. There were some adults that knew this fact too, mainly cheating husbands or wives, who’d used it to keep their affairs a secret from their prying spouses. But what it was mainly used for was drug addicted teens or dealers wanting to do drug transactions with a minimal chance of getting caught.

Yes, the owner of this note was smart, almost calculating in a way. Not that Tess had thought that he wouldn’t be… he had probably planned this note out months in advance. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had even picked his current location out ahead of time too.

A persistent buzzing in her hip pocket interrupted Tess’ thoughts of admiration of the note. It was just her cell phone. It was probably Kyle or Mr. Valenti, calling to ask how she was doing. They’d want to know where she was and why she had snuck out of the house earlier.

She was surprised that she was able to avoid their calls for as long as she had-- especially since she had ducked out of the house after her shower earlier that morning without leaving a note. She felt badly that she’d probably worried them. It wasn’t a good time to just disappear without telling somebody… but she couldn’t stand to be around anybody at that point in time. She had just wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

Yawning-- her exhaustion catching up to her-- Tess took a look at her watch to check the time. It was 4:30 PM. She shook her head; the funeral had ended almost an hour ago. Time seemed to have gotten away from her as she had wandered around town for a little while, collecting her thoughts. She had spent most of the day sitting on the swing set at the West Roswell Elementary School playground. She had decided earlier that week that she wasn’t going to go to the funeral. She couldn’t have handled the amount of energy that pretending would have required from her; she wasn’t good at faking her emotions like that. With her luck, the overwhelming amount of emotional auras swirling around her would have caused her to have a nervous breakdown and she couldn’t afford that right now. Besides, it wasn’t like she would have been missed anyway.

 After a few more minutes as the ringing from her phone became more constant, more annoying, she took her phone of her pocket and decided to answer it. She couldn’t avoid talking to either of them any longer. Besides, she owned them some kind of an explanation.

Tess didn’t even check the caller I.D. before she flipped the phone open and said, “Kyle, I’m okay. Stop calling me… I’ll be home in an hour.”

“It’s not Kyle,” a deep voice answered back, causing her to tense up. She knew that voice. She’d recognize it anywhere.

“Max?”

“Yep… Tess, it’s me.” Max said nervously, almost edgily.  “It’s Max.”

 “I know it’s you.” Tess snapped. “What do you want?” she asked, flinching. She hadn’t meant for her voice to sound so harsh. She had no reason to be mad or irritated with him… but she was. He shouldn’t be calling her. He should be calling Liz.

But Max didn’t sound fazed by her harshness when he said, “I was wondering…If I can….” He paused. He paused for so long that Tess began to wonder if they had gotten disconnected, but then she heard him sigh on the other end of the line before he said, “I was wondering if I can talk to you?”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Jim, I looked at every angle… I looked at those files from every which way; I’ve interviewed everybody I could think of to interview. I even talked to the boy’s teachers, his friends; even his parents… and they’re all saying the same thing.”

Jim Valenti glanced at the cardboard box filled with folders that Sheriff Hanson had given to him earlier that week. All the evidence, new and old, that he had been collecting on Alex’s accident was right there. Jim had read everything with a critical eye since he had gotten it-- Alex’s public records, transcripts, report cards, also eye-witness accounts of the car crash, even his goddamn I.Q. levels and test scores… He had read it all.

Sometimes Jim would read everything twice, trice … looking over every word that had been written down with such intensity that he thought his eyes would bleed. He couldn’t help it; it was like he was trying to find something. He didn’t quite know what… but he knew if he could just find it… a better answer to this whole godforsaken mess… then maybe… just maybe… he wouldn’t have to be the reason that his son’s friends all fell apart.

Jim ran his hand gently over the lid of the cardboard box. Despite his gentle nature and attitude at the moment, Jim Valenti felt like smashing something. Every aspect of Alex’s life was going to be stuffed into one tiny box, left to collect dust for all eternity. Jim swore to himself as he took his hand off the box and ran his fingers through his graying hair. It wasn’t right for a young boy’s life -- _Alex’s_ life—to be summed up in three files that fit into one small box. 

Hanson also ran his hands through his hair as he put his hand on his hip, where he had worn his gun over pants of the tux he had worn to the funeral. He spoke a moment later, “Jim… Everybody’s saying the same thing. He’s been distant, distracted, at times irrationally impulsive and extremely solemn and temperamental.” As Hanson continued on, Jim felt like punching him. “I’m sorry, Jim, I don’t want to believe it either… but the evidence is pointing to it.” Hanson paused before whispering, “I’m sorry but that’s my ruling.” 

Jim laughed bitterly as he stared at the big red words stamped over the cause of death on the file that Jim had taken out of the box.  Jim stared at the smiling picture of Alex that had been taken his sophomore year…. It had been determined that Alex’s Whitman’s death was to be ruled a suicide.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The bell over the Crashdown’s double glass doors chimed loudly, signaling a new customer. Jeff Parker turned his head away from the short order cook, who was standing in for Liz’s friend Michael, and walked over to the booth the man had sat in. He rolled his eyes a little before plastering a fake smile on his face as he greeted the unknown man. He could tell by the way the man was dressed that he was a travelling business man and they were always snotty, demanding customers. “Can I help you?” Jeff asked, handing him a menu. Jeff pulled out his notepad before eyeing the man carefully. There was something alarmingly different about the man in front of him.

He was a tall man, almost lanky. His hair was black as coal and his eyes were shielded by a big pair of aviator sunglasses. His clothes were dark in color; his suit jacket was the only item on him that stood out in a sea of gray, but it was all fancy in a way that announced its designer label. That wasn’t what unsettled Jeff Parker; it was the air he projected. 

The man had a deadly presence… his whole being was marked with the black, rotting essence of death. His body language made Jeff stand up a little straighter, heightening his senses… Jeff felt the overwhelming air of authority, like a police officer but with the deathly intimidation of  a …. Murderer.

Jeff felt like the aura around this man was a ticking time bomb. It was like he was waiting for a reason to strike.

The man briefly glanced at the Crashdown menu that Jeff handed him before he discarded it onto the table; he had an odd look on his face as he did so; like he had touched something dirty, beneath him. “Yes,” the man said, his European accent was rough, but his tone was fussy-- almost prissy. “I’m looking for someone by the name of Elizabeth Parker, Liz for short. I’ve asked around town and they say she works here.”

“Liz is my daughter,” Jeff said, picking the menu up off the table. “She’s not here right now… May I ask what you want with her?”

Jeff could see the man’s eyebrow rising over the rim of his sunglasses. He cleared his throat lightly before saying, “Oh, it’s nothing important…” He laughed a little as he said it. “I just have a few questions for her.” The man looked away briefly to rummage around in his jacket pocket.  He pulled out a business card and handed it to Jeff. “So, if you’ll give her this and ask her to call this number, it will be greatly appreciated.” The man finished.

“Yeah, I’ll do that…” Jeff trailed off. The uneasy feeling in his stomach grew and grew. _What does this man want with my daughter?_ Jeff looked at the card; it was fairly standard business: white in coloring with black letters. Jeff realized with vague horror that it had no name…. just a number. _What has Lizzie gotten into?_

Jeff could hear the door chime ringing as it signaled the man walking out the door. He took his eyes off the card and watched as the man got into the passenger side of a town car and drove off. Once Jeff saw the car disappear deeper into Roswell, he threw the card in the garbage can and went back to his customers.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Maria removed the jacket Michael had worn to the funeral, and then carefully unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt as her left hand touched upon the front of his boxers. She rubbed on the bulge there a little, not to jerk him off … but to cause friction. He bit her neck before she heard him moan softly against it… but she had only heard the moan vaguely, from a million miles away. She moaned, too, as she dug her nails into his back, only going through the motions of fooling around with her boyfriend. Every touch, kiss, movement-- every feeling she projected was false. She felt nothing. Nothing except a faint, numbing sense of pleasure and she welcomed it…. It was nice to feel something besides bone-crushing heartache for a change.

She knew on some level that Michael knew this, had accepted it in a sense. It hadn’t been his idea to go parking, but he hadn’t resisted the notion and she was glad that he hadn’t. Because this wasn’t about them, it was about something greater, something stronger than the pain and the sorrow. It was about offering each other a warped sense of comfort. Love.

 It was her way of letting Michael show her his love, his comfort… his feelings. She knew that he couldn’t do it any other way. And if she needed to let him fuck her to do it, then she’d let him. She wouldn’t stop it. In her own sick way she needed it more than he did, needed the blinding hunger of lust, of closeness… because in those few minutes that they were intertwined… she felt something that she never did any other time. She felt love, adoration, and pleasure …. And right now, she needed that. She needed it more than anything.

 So, she would endure it…. She would go through the emotion and the sounds that she knew would make him happy…. She could handle all of the pretending; if she could feel loved for just a moment. 

Michael laid her down gently on the back seat of her car, the rough material of the back seat that had cracked with age scratching her back a little. He pulled out a condom from his wallet before he pulled his pants down the rest of the way and slid his boxers down along with them. He also slowly discarded her underwear before he entered her.

 Maria sighed a little as she turned her head toward the digital clock on the radio, staring at its small numbers, flashing in dark red, _almost blood red_ , she thought with a numb sense of surrealism—it was 4:45 PM.

 _Alex has only been in the ground for an hour,_ Maria thought briefly before Michael trusted forward and her whole body began to explode with pleasure.

 

_**TBC...** _


	10. Chapter 10

Max glanced at Tess’ gloomy, distant face as he parked his car a couple of blocks away from the cemetery; he had almost forgotten that he still had to pick up his sister. He turned off the ignition with a quick flick of his hand and settled into the soft silence that surrounded the interior of the car. Tess hadn’t said much to him since he had picked her up from the playground a while ago.

He still didn’t even know why he had called her in the first place; his fingers had dialed her number before he had even realized what he had been doing… before he could have stopped himself.  At the time, he had decided to chuck his impulsive response to Liz’s unexpected call. Her demand that he have everybody meet her at Alex’s had frazzled him in a way that Max couldn’t explain any more than he could have explained his call to Tess…. but once the phone had started ringing, he had let it, welcoming the constant unanswered ringing in his ear.

And Max had realized by the third ring that he actually needed to really talk to someone neutral, someone on the outside that he could unleash all his feelings onto. He hadn’t even known how close he was to breaking until he had pressed that call button to Tess’ number. He hadn’t even realized that he had such pent-up feelings of rage and sadness, which threatened to choke him every time he breathed too deeply…. He hadn’t even known he was _that_ angry, that resentful until Liz had called and hung up on him.

Besides, Tess seemed like a safer bet than Michael, who would have just probably told him to be a man and stop bitching. And he couldn’t burden Isabel with this. His sister was already on a tightly thinned rope, barely hanging on to her own sanity. She didn’t need his feelings piled on top of her own; she was one step away from breaking down completely, and to burden her with anything else would be like handing her a loaded gun and leaving her to her own devices. Isabel couldn’t handle this, not right now… she was already on the verge of doing something desperate—like killing herself or running away… and Max couldn’t live with being the cause of either of those scenarios. 

 “So… Liz wants to talk to us, huh?” Tess asked as she played with her hands.

Max looked up, surprised. That was the first thing she had said to him since giving him the directions to her location so he could pick her up.

“Yeah,” Max tilted his head slightly, trying to see Tess’ face better. “She said she wanted us to meet her at Alex’s.” He could see the lines in Tess’ face tighten at the mention of Alex’s name… but she didn’t say anything, just went back to staring out of the window on her side of the car.

Max raised his eyebrow as he said, “You weren’t at his funeral either… Why?” he asked. He had a good idea about why Liz hadn’t shown up and he was sure that it had something to do with him… but Tess?… He hadn’t the slightest clue why she hadn’t shown… and it was bothering him.

“I needed to be alone,” she said. “Why do you care, anyway?” she asked, facing him again with a questioning looked etched on her face.

The look took him off guard. Tess had never been that bold with him before; she usually just went along with what he said. She never questioned him… or asked him questions. Not like that anyway.

 _So… Did he? Did he care?_ Max looked away from her questioning gaze, drumming his finger on the steering wheel of his jeep.  He mulled her question over. The question was simple enough; it should have produced a simple enough answer… But he had trouble coming up with an answer….  At least an answer he liked. But in the end … he guessed he didn’t care that she hadn’t shown… but that didn’t mean that he had liked the lack of her presence.

Max turned and answered her. “I was a little surprised,” he lied. He hadn’t been at all surprised that she hadn’t shown up. It wasn’t like she was really welcomed. “I knew you two were kind of close near the end.” That wasn’t a lie. He had noticed that the two had been more chummy than usual since Alex’s return from Sweden. He also knew that it had bothered Isabel to no end.

“Yeah,” Tess said softly, so softly in fact that he had trouble hearing her. “He was a good guy…I really liked him.” She finished and went back to playing with her hands.

Max nodded his head in agreement. Yeah; Alex had been a good guy. No, Alex had been a _great_ guy… but that didn’t really matter now, did it? He was just a great guy who was buried underneath six feet of dirt now. Max inwardly scoffed _, When you’re dead it doesn’t really matter how great you were, does it?_ Max shook his head at his question; no, he guessed it really didn’t.

“Have you told the others yet?” Tess asked, breaking Max out of his thoughts.

He shook his head, No… he hadn’t called the others yet.

Tess only nodded her head, and the two returned to a comfortable silence; each in their own world. Max couldn’t help but like Tess’ presence… her silent understanding, her silent comfort.

 Unlike his parents and some of the other people at the funeral, Max didn’t feel the overwhelming need to fill in the silence, to prove over and over again that he was okay… because he wasn’t. He was nowhere near okay… but he couldn’t tell his parents; he didn’t want them to worry, nor did he want some random person to offer their superficial comfort. He didn’t need that shit and he didn’t want it. And some part of him… deep down… knew that Tess understood that…understood that part of him. That she knew him in a way that maybe Liz never could… that Liz never would.

Maybe Tess understood that. As much as Max wanted to be a good guy, as much as he wanted to be the hero, as much as he wanted to be the man people expected him to be… she understood that he wasn’t. Maybe he was really just a bad person at heart… someone bad pretending, wishing, hoping to be good… and maybe sometimes; it was just nice not to have to pretend any more.

On some level… maybe… he understood that she understood that, and with one last lingering look at Tess’ pretty face, he took his phone out of his breast pocket and began dialing the gang’s cell phone numbers one by one.

 

_**TBC...** _


	11. Chapter 11

“I think Alex was murdered.”

Kyle whipped his head around to face Liz, her words bouncing around violently in his head. _Murdered!_ Kyle bit his thumb. Was she out of her mind? _Alex wasn’t murdered. Was he?_ Something filled Kyle with doubt. Maybe Liz wasn’t being irrational? Maybe she was onto something? Everything about Alex’s death smelled of suspicion; it screamed set-up. It was like he had deliberately gone out there to that dirt road that fateful night to get himself killed…. Or murdered. Kyle banged his head lightly on the window seal of Alex’s room. When did everything in his life become one big set-up… a giant conspiracy? Maybe it was the day Max ‘I get everything’ Evans lifted his hand over his chest and healed him? But Kyle was inclined to think it happened way before that.

“Would you listen to yourself?” Max spat, stepping closer to her. “Why would anyone want to kill Alex?” Max said in a low, calm voice as he loomed over her. He was dangerously invading Liz’s personal space, trying to intimidate her into silence and it took everything Kyle had in him not to walk over there and punch Max straight in the face… Something he’d wanted to do since the moment Max Evans stole Liz away from him.

It wasn’t that Kyle didn’t understand that Max was hurting too… but so what? Everybody else was too. Alex’s death didn’t give Max the right to go all ‘king’ on them. Besides, Kyle didn’t need this shit and, honestly, Kyle didn’t think Max even had the right to hurt. He had known Alex for two years; Kyle had known Alex his whole life.

“I don’t know, Liz,” Tess piped up.

Kyle rolled his eyes. Oh, of course Tess would be on Max’s side. God forbid, she should betray her king by thinking for her own damn self.

“I think… maybe Alex … might have killed himself.”

Kyle turned his head, glaring. Was she high? She knew better than to say that in front of Liz and Maria… Hell, even saying that in front of Isabel was a risky move.

Liz scoffed. “Tess, just shut the fuck up.” Liz hissed, causing Max to glare at her more.

Kyle shook his head, laughing a little. “There is no way in hell that would have happened.”

Maria rolled her eyes before she yelled, “You don’t know Alex like we did so _you_ don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Maria’s tone of voice made Kyle flinch a little; she sounded like she was close to laying Tess low.

Michael rubbed Maria’s shoulder, stroking her hair in an effort to calm Maria down.  He was also glaring at Tess. “Watch it.” Michael warned Tess, pointing his finger at her.

Kyle balled his fists; he didn’t like Michael’s tone. He agreed that Tess should have had more tact… but he didn’t have a right to threaten her. Not in his presence.

“Liz, what does this have to do with anything?” Isabel asked suddenly. Her tone was flat but her body language spoke volumes; it was tense with irritation. “Why are you making this so much harder?”

“Because I know what I know,” Liz said, turning toward one of Alex’s drawers and pulling something out.

Kyle raised his eyebrow. It looked like some kind of… heart-shaped box?

“And I know what I saw, Isabel.” Liz opened the box and showed everybody its contents.

Maria gasped, holding her hand over her mouth before she buried her head in Michael’s shoulder. Tess raised her eyebrow before she scoffed. Michael shook his head with a bitter smile plastered on his face. Kyle couldn’t help but roll his eyes, and Max just stood there, arms crossed over his chest. Kyle thought he looked dumb just standing there like that.

“You don’t plan for the future when you don’t plan on having a future,” Liz said with bitter smugness, rage flashing in her eyes. Tess just shook her head and rolled her eyes at Liz’s smug tone.

Liz lowered her hand to give Isabel the velvet box. Isabel took the box with such gentle hands that, for a minute, Kyle thought she wasn’t touching it at all.  He wondered that if maybe she was using her mind to levitate it…

“This doesn’t prove anything,” Max said. His body was tense with uncertainty; a quiet rage was etched on his face.

Kyle laughed bitterly. Apparently the King didn’t like to be made to doubt himself… because Max Evans always had to have his way. He always had to be fucking right. God forbid that anyone should question or think otherwise.

“What does this prove?” Max asked accusingly. “Other than the fact that you snooped around in his stuff…” Max smiled arrogantly, daring Liz to say something. He wanted her to say something that he could use against her, but Liz didn’t budge and she didn’t back down.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she walked closer to him until she was standing just inches away from his face and she just …. stared. As though she was sizing him up, like someone would size up an opponent.  She looked like someone who was ready to go to war.

“Who would want to kill Alex?” Max asked. His eyes were dark with something unreadable, unstable, almost animalistic… alien. The look made Kyle uneasy; it made him lean a little off the ledge of the window seal, readying himself for the countdown. Shit was about to hit the fan, and he wanted to get the hell out of Dodge. Liz was playing a dangerous game, adding fuel to the already lit flame… and if she wasn’t careful… she was going to get burned worse than the rest of them.

“I don’t know, “Liz stepped closer as she continued to stare Max down. “Maybe an alien.” And there it was-- a flicker of something lethal. The beginning of an unstoppable force… a wild fire had just been lit with the sole purpose of causing unrelenting destruction.

Kyle breathed a little harder, his heartbeat sped; his vision narrowed to a fine point. It wasn’t until later that he realized he was an animal getting ready for the slaughter. It wasn’t until that point that he realized that everything had been finalized. It was declared; they were at war.

Total silence followed Liz’s comment; not a sound was made and nobody dared to break the soul-crushing silence. It was so quiet that Kyle was afraid to move… afraid to breathe. He couldn’t gauge anybody’s reaction but his own. Nothing was predictable anymore. The uncertainty weighed heavily in the air, making Kyle restless. He wanted out. He didn’t want to be a member of the ‘I know an alien’ club anymore. Not if it meant total destruction.

“You’re not thinking clearly.” Michael said, his ragged voice breaking through the unbearable silence. He had a dark expression on his face that Kyle had never seen before.

Liz turned away from Max and Kyle winced.

The levy had broken; Liz was no longer in control. She was just as unpredictable as the people she was accusing. “No! You’re not thinking clearly!” Liz yelled, rage radiating off her in a wave so suffocating that Kyle was unable to breath for a minute. She stalked forward, a deadly air surrounding her, like an animal ready to charge. “Because if you were, you’d have to admit that this is your fault!” Liz was only an inch away from Michael’s face and Kyle was surprised that Michael hadn’t blasted her in two. He didn’t look angry or threatened… he lazily stared back, holding his ground. He was letting her have it out.

Suddenly Kyle understood why Michael broke the silence. Michael understood what Kyle had only thought he knew about Liz Parker… she wasn’t really angry with Michael or any of the rest of them. She was mad at Max. She was heartbroken, just like the rest of them… but she didn’t know how to show it in any normal way. Most importantly, she didn’t know how to be mad at Max without being angry with herself…. So it was just easier for her to unleash all of her anger and resentment on Michael.

“Liz…” Kyle said tentatively. He felt like he was talking to a deranged person who was about to blow up a building. “Calm down.”

“Shut up, Kyle,” Michael hissed, but there was no real malice in his voice. He continued to stare Liz down. “She’s just finally being honest.” Kyle rolled his eyes. If this was honesty, then he wanted no part of it.

“Liz, stop this,” Maria pleaded, grabbing Liz’s arm. “Please seat down and just think this over… you’re not making sense.”

Liz snatched her arm away from Maria’s grip as Max grabbed her other arm and spun her around to face him. He shook her roughly with that dangerous look still in his eyes.

Kyle was afraid of that look… that look confirmed something that Kyle didn’t want to believe was there. It seemed that Max had snapped.  He had broken in half…. everything was finally coming to a boiling point, ready to rise to the surface. Kyle could feel all the rage, desperation, and pain pouring into the air through waves so strong that Kyle was almost sick with it. Max was no longer … _Max_! He looked crazy… he looked crazy enough to do something unforgiving … like hitting Liz.

If Kyle hadn’t done the only thing he could think to do in that moment, who knew what might have happened? If Kyle hadn’t jumped off the ledge, pushed Liz out of the way and punched Max in the face, snapping him back to reality… he really believed that Max might have beaten the life out of Liz Parker.

Silence continued to fill the room as Kyle backed away from the scene before him. He took a deep breath and realized that the air was charged with something besides oxygen. Kyle felt an electrically charged element swirling around him, making him sweat profusely. Even though the atmosphere was far less deadly than before, the silence still made Kyle uneasy… especially since he was trying to prepare himself to be punched back.

Kyle looked around at the others and realized that he wasn’t the only one standing. Michael was up and helping Max off the floor and Max was rubbing his jaw thoughtfully; he had a dazed look in his eyes. It was as if Kyle’s punch had wakened him from a dream.

Liz was breathing heavily and backing wildly away from Max. Kyle saw an emotion on her face that scared him even more than Max’s crazy look had. She was scared. Liz was scared of Max Evans.

“Max…” Kyle began but the full sentence hadn’t completely fallen from his lips when Max’s soft but authoritative voice said, “We’re leaving.” it was a demand, spoken as he shook Michael’s hand off his shoulder.

It was clear that he was not talking to the humans. He was talking to his fellow aliens.  Tess and Isabel didn’t hesitate and immediately followed Max out of the door… but Michael lingered, looking at Maria mournfully. When she didn’t look back at him after a few more lingering glances, Michael left as well.

Kyle, Liz and Maria were left alone in Alex’s room. “So… It’s really us versus them now, huh?” Maria asked gruffly as she closed her eyes, leaning her head on the window pane behind her.

Liz scoffed, but Kyle looked at her and nodded. Yeah, it seemed so. It seemed that they were at war. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Liz gave Kyle another reassuring smile before he hesitantly shut the driver’s door to her car. After the incident with Max, Maria had suggested leaving Alex’s house and driving out to the quarry. Neither Kyle nor Liz had liked the idea of going out to the quarry, but for different reasons… Liz hadn’t liked all the memories of Max that the quarry would dredge up and Kyle didn’t like the idea of remembering all those summer nights he had spent there with Alex, Maria, and Liz through the years. It had progressed from being an interesting place to explore and to play ‘Hide and Seek’ to being the place where they brought liquor stolen from their parents’ cabinets. They would hitchhike out to the quarry to get drunk and talk about stupid middle school dramas.

Sometime around freshman year of high school, they had stopped going and Kyle had always regretted it, especially since he was the main reason they stopped. Kyle had begun playing football; he had gotten good enough to make varsity and became popular, cocky,… and snobby. He had believed that he was too cool, too good, to do something as silly as hanging out at a quarry with a bunch of losers. That regret was the reason why he had agreed to the idea so reluctantly.

The drive out to the quarry wasn’t a long one, but the silence that followed once they had gotten there was. They had sat on top of the roof of Kyle’s beat-up truck, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, not talking; just staring at the light blue sky for what seemed like forever…. until Liz had broken the silence by telling them that she was leaving.

Kyle had immediately offered to drive her home and stay with her, but she had quickly rebuffed him. She said that she didn’t want to have to worry about him being able to get home safely; that she needed to be alone. He wasn’t so sure about the latter… the last thing she needed right now was to be alone.

Besides, he didn’t want her to get hurt driving herself home. Losing one friend to a car accident was enough in Kyle’s book… but after a lot of arguing, yelling and pleading, Kyle had finally gave in and gave up. He didn’t want to push her any further; he was afraid if he did… she would disappear altogether.

 He should have known he wasn’t going to win that one. Nothing could change Liz Parker’s mind; not when she had already made the discussion. Not even a concerned friend could detour her from it. He could understand that; he had always admired Liz for possessing that kind of conviction…. He guessed that he could admire it because it was something that he could easily find in himself. But he still didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want her to be alone, especially in another place that would just reminded her so much of Alex.

Kyle knocked softly on the window of Liz’s car. “Get home safely,” he shouted to be heard through the closed window. She offered him another small smile for his concern.

“I will.” She mouthed, giving the glass a light kiss before she put the car into drive and drove out onto the dirt road of the quarry that led to the main highway. He watched her go until her car disappeared from view. He sighed, running his large hands through his newly cut hair. He had gotten a haircut for the funeral… and he didn’t know why, it wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone… or maybe he was. Alex was always saying that Kyle needed a haircut. He turned around, facing Maria, and sighed again; it was just him and Maria now.

“You know… you’re beginning to hurt my feelings,” Maria spoke suddenly, startling Kyle. He hadn’t expected her to say anything… He hadn’t really expected anything of her except maybe a resentful glare, a middle finger flipped off in his face, and a trail of rock dust as she revved her car out of the quarry and onto the main road. “You look like you want to be anywhere but here with me.”

He didn’t say anything… He didn’t know what to say to that… because it was true, half true anyway. He didn’t want to be there because he assumed _she_ didn’t want to be there. Maria wasn’t exactly his biggest fan. He couldn’t blame her for hating him… especially since he had, in no uncertain terms, told her to fuck off… that she was a loser after she had invited him to the quarry to hang out after the big homecoming game their freshman year.

Kyle stuffed his hands in his pants pockets, “I figured _you_ wouldn’t want to be here… since you’ve kind of hated me since freshman year.” He said it with a casualness that he didn’t feel. For some reason, it always bothered him that he hadn’t gotten her approval back when he was dating Liz.

Maria rolled her eyes at his words, surprising him when she said, “I don’t hate you, Kyle.” She sighed and ran her finger through her own hair before she continued. “I didn’t like you, but… you were always my friend.” She had said it with such fondness and love that Kyle had to avert his eyes, stuffing his hands deeper in his pockets and suddenly finding his shoes more interesting than her face.

Neither of them said anything for a long time; silence once again stretched between them… but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the most at peace that Kyle had felt in days. He could feel the concern and understanding Maria felt for him and he needed a friend, something stable amongst all the chaos and… he didn’t know how to thank Maria for giving him that.

 Kyle walked over and went back to sit next to Maria on the hood of his truck, and after few more minutes of silence, he cleared his throat and said, “Of course I am… how else would you have gotten into all those cool parties?” Kyle said with a sense of cockiness that he didn’t feel, but he couldn’t help himself… being smug was his default emotion.

 “I can tell that you’re rolling your eyes, Maria.” Kyle said, smirking as he bumped her with his shoulder.

And she rolled them again for good measure, making Kyle smile. “That’s because you’re annoying,” Maria shot back with her usual feistiness and Kyle could tell that the moment was over. The air around them was serious and sad again, swirling around them, dimming the light mood.

“Do you agree with Liz, Kyle?” Maria asked with the same suddenness as before. “Do you think Alex was murdered?”

And once again, Maria had caught him off guard. “N-No. Y-Yes… kind of.” Kyle stammered, rubbing his eyebrow. “I think she’s right about Alex’s death not being an accident and I do think that maybe he could have been murdered, but I don’t think it was by _aliens_.”

Maria frowned at him and he felt kind of bad. That probably wasn’t the answer she was hoping to hear from him. “Than what do you think?” Maria whispered, so softly that Kyle almost didn’t hear her question.

Kyle shrugged, lying back on top of the hood. “I know Liz,” he said, rubbing his forehead; he realized with a vague sense of horror that his head felt like exploding. “And I know she wouldn’t say something like that if she didn’t think it was true.”

“But… you saw her today…” Maria paused before deciding to also lie back down on the hood as well. “She was… unstable.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and so was Max, but that doesn’t make what he said any less true too.”

Maria sighed. “But who would want Alex dead?” she asked, turning toward the sky and away from him.

“I don’t know.” He paused as a sharp pain continued to invade his head. “I just don’t know.” He grunted, rubbing his temples, and unconsciously he also began to rub his stomach, almost like he was trying to fight the urge to puke.

Maria only nodded her head as a response before pinching his left hand, urging him to go on… and after a few moments, Kyle did. “I think that maybe he did kill himself.” It hurt Kyle to say it, but it didn’t make the feeling any less true. “I think he went out there that night to kill himself.”

 

_**TBC...** _


	12. Chapter 12

The beautifully vast scenery of yet another small town continued to blur around him as he zoomed down another deserted road of southern Arizona. The town seemed to be even emptier than the last one; another farm town, he guessed, since he’d seen more windmills and cows in the last twenty-seven hours than actual _people_ the moment that he crossed the border into Arizona.

Considering that, he supposed that sheer luck must have been on his side back in the last town, since he had been able to stop and fill up the gas tank of the Harley he had stolen back in Albuquerque. Since then, he hadn’t seen another gas station. He glanced quickly at the small gas meter of the motorcycle before turning his attention back to the road ahead of him as relief washed over him.

There was enough gas that, if he was careful, he would probably be able to pass at least two more small towns before he would have to abandon the bike and begin trekking on foot into his destination. He would be able to make it into Stark on time; he’d be there to take Tess’ call and, as he continued to speed down the roads of the isolated town of Park Ridge, AZ, the vaguely defined shapes of more windmills and cattle whizzed past him to the finer point of his mind… and he thanked God for small favors because he was going to need all the miracles he could get. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

 “She wasn’t there,” the lanky businessman from the Crashdown said as he slammed the door to the hotel room he and his partner had rented as soon as they had landed in Roswell.

“Where is she?” his partner asked, sifting through the papers their superior officer gave them when they took the case.

The tall businessman shrugged. “I don’t know; her father wouldn’t tell me,” he said, dropping the strong European accent he had spent the last month learning and all day using as he asked around town about the one and only Liz Parker.   

His partner nodded pensively, not taking his eyes off the papers in front of him. “We have to find her.”

The tall businessman rolled his eyes a little. As though he didn’t already know that. “I wouldn’t worry; this is a small town. She couldn’t have gone far,” The lanky man said in an offhand manner, shrugging off his gaudy suit jacket. He wasn’t worried… How hard could it be to locate a sixteen-year-old girl?

But his partner wasn’t so confident. “If she finds anything…”

“Then we’re screwed.” The tall man finished, folding up his jacket and throwing it in the empty closet of the hotel room. Boy, were they screwed.

“You’re sure you didn’t find anything at the boy’s place?” His partner asked again, for the millionth time today.

“I’m sure,” the tall man spat, beginning to loosen his tie. “All the boy ever seemed to do was read, write, and work on his stupid computer.”

His partner gave him a look.

“Which I wiped clean,” he added, rubbing his thumb against the smooth, electric surface of the memory chip he had used to copy any files that could be of use and wipe the computer clean. “There were some digital entries in his computer about an Isabel… and a Leanne he met in Sweden… but I don’t think it’s going to lead to anything.” He paused as he reached into his long-sleeve shirt’s breast pocket for the printed out journal entries. He pulled out the entries and handed them over to his partner. “I can’t look up any of the names mentioned in his entries except Liz Parker’s since he didn’t give any other last names besides hers.”

His partner looked over the documents handed to him with a critical eye so intense with concentration that, at any moment, the tall man expected that his partner’s eyes might burn holes in the paper.

“They’re written in some kind of code,” His partner said curiously. “The police record indicates that they have ruled his death as a suicide.” He continued to scan the papers the tall man had given him.

“Smart man, if he _did_ kill himself.” The tall man whispered, taking another look at the police file that his partner had snatched from the station earlier that morning. 

“Yeah… Smart man…” His partner said, unconvinced.

_Smart man indeed._

 -/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

 

Liz ignored the worried and disapproving stares from her parents as she walked through the double doors of her family’s restaurant. It was because the Crashdown had closed hours ago, and her dad’s expression said that they had expected her home a while ago for clean up.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked timidly, wiping down a table in the back of the Crashdown. Her father sent her another censuring look as he took a sip of his beer and turned his attention back to looking over the bills and this month’s inventory.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly. “I’m home now.... What do you want me to do?” Liz asked, taking off her faded jacket and rolling up her sleeves. She knew the look her dad had sent her… and she knew it meant that she was about to endure the hardest chores of the diner.

“Take out the trash, clean the restrooms, and do the evening dishes,” her father demanded, not taking his eyes off the papers in front of him. “And you’re grounded for two weeks.”

 _Why?_ Liz thought, rolling her eyes, but she didn’t argue. She didn’t have the energy for it. It was just the way her life was now: unfair.

“Could you sweep up the kitchen too, sweetie?” her mother asked, not waiting for her daughter to answer before handing her the broom and cleaning products from the closet.

Liz only nodded her head in response, laying the broom against the booth near the restrooms. She grabbed the bleach cleaner from the mop bucket as she headed toward the men’s room and closed the door behind her.

Liz pulled out the torn pages of the poem that had the secret message on it from Alex’s room. She had decided before the others had come that leaving the message just laying around his room in plain view wasn’t safe… but neither was her carrying it around or keeping it. No, nothing was safe anymore. Liz’s life wasn’t safe anymore; not that it ever was.

Sighing, Liz ran her fingers over the torn ridges of the pages, memorizing every line, phrase, and word of the message. She didn’t know why… because even memorizing it was probably just as dangerous as having the actual pages themselves. She doused the worn-down pages with the bleach cleaner she had taken from the mop bucket and lit it on fire with the lighter she had also stolen from Alex’s room.

As she watched the amber flames rapidly creep down the pages, she realized that her dissuasion was final now. She couldn’t trust anyone… not anymore… especially not Max and she had thought that she could always trust him. Maybe that was what Alex had meant when he said not to tell anyone about the message… maybe he knew that no one would believe her, that no one would care. Yes, he knew that it would be up to her and only her to find out the truth.

And she was going to stop at nothing to achieve her goal. It was like the real answers to Alex’s death were right in her face … just out of her reach and it was driving her crazy; she couldn’t live in childish ignorance anymore. She chose this life; she chose to keep Max’s secret and, in doing that, she needed to finally accept that there just wasn’t any way to turn her head away from the things she didn’t like. She needed to stop making excuses… She needed to stop thinking that Max was the man that he wasn’t.

She owed the truth to herself… to lay the blinders aside and face reality…. She owed that to her friend.

Liz watched as the flames slowly began to trail down, inches away from burning her fingers. Sighing, she threw the pages in the toilet; the flames disappeared as the water found its way onto the burning pages, turning them into black soot filling the edges of the toilet… and in a few more minutes, she began cleaning the black soot off… and replaying everything she knew so far in her head over and over again. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

_“Mommy! Mommy! Is my pannacakes done yet?” a small girl, who was only beginning to learn how to talk, asked. She was smiling—a goofy, dorky, adorable smile like the one Isabel had seen on her father’s face some many times, a smile that was only reserved for her._

_“I haven’t even made the batter yet, kiddy-mini,” Isabel smiled, using the small girl’s nickname that her dad had come up with years ago. The nickname caused her daughter to laugh freely, making her mother’s heart swell with a love that she hadn’t known existed._

_Trying to hide the tears in her eyes, Isabel had turned back to stirring the batter when a deep voice said, “Mommy may be an alien, kitten, but she can’t cook up pancakes from thin air.” The man smiled mockingly and then caused the little girl to squeal happily when he tickled her. Isabel smiled despite herself… because, normally, Isabel would be alarmed to hear someone say the word ‘alien’ so freely around her without caution… but she wasn’t; she hadn’t even flinched when the word popped out of his mouth … It was like that word was said everyday… like it had become a joke over the years of her life. It was something said normally now, so naturally._

_“Are you really here?” Isabel asked, leaning into the strong, lean arms that suddenly engulfed her from behind as she continued to stir the pancake batter. The scent that found its way into her senses was familiar to her… it was as comforting and commonplace in her life as the smell of cooked bacon and scrambled eggs swirling around in the air of their small kitchen. She knew almost instantly who was holding her. Yes, she didn’t have to turn around to know that it was **him**._

_“Am I dreaming?” she asked a moment later, snuggling deeper into his arms as she poured the blueberry pancake batter into the pre-heated pan. She could feel his smile on her cheek._

_“I think you know the answer to that.” He kissed her hair softly, dipping his finger into the lumpy pancake batter when she placed the half-empty bowl back on the counter. “Do you want this to be a dream?”he asked, laughing when she swatted his hand away._

_She thought that over as she flipped the pancake onto its other side. “No.” She kissed his upper arm, causing a child-like ‘ewww’ to fill her ears a minute later. “But I know it is.” Isabel smiled bitterly as she reminded herself that she could wake up at any moment… and the happiness she felt in her very core would disappear into thin air._

_He hummed lightly behind her before saying, “Then just enjoy it, Isabel…. enjoy it.” His warm arms left her for a moment, causing her to whine softly. He wasn’t even gone a minute and she missed his warmth already… and he wasn’t even real. This wasn’t even real._

_A moment later—before Isabel could completely break down in tears—she felt another set of familiar and comforting arms wrap around her neck, hugging her tightly and lovingly._

_“Right, Katie-belle?” Alex asked their three-year-old daughter as he wrapped his arms around Isabel’s waist. He kissed her left cheek._

_“Right, Daddy.” Katie, Isabel’s daughter, giggled before kissing her mother’s other cheek. “Just enjoy it, Mommy.” Isabel tearfully laughed, hugging and kissing them both back before…_

She crashed back to reality, bolting upright in her bed, barely breathing. She could feel the hot tears rolling down her sweating face as the dream slowly faded from her mind and she was left feeling nothing but sadness once again.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

 _What was I thinking, coming here? It wouldn’t do any good… I can’t fix this one… Oh, God, I can’t fix this mistake._ Max sighed, turning off the engine of his Jeep as the memories began to suffocating him, one by one—each just as bittersweet as the last, threatening to engulf him until there was nothing left but the overwhelming regret that seemed to be a part of his everyday life now.

 _God, what am I doing?_ He really shouldn’t have gone there; she wouldn’t want him there and, quite frankly, he didn’t _want_ to be there. Being there, watching her…It felt wrong… especially after what had happened between them earlier.

Because being there-- after what he’d done--felt like he was yet again violating some kind of trust that she had once placed in him. No…He shouldn’t be there; he should start the start the car _immediately_ , abandon the idea altogether. He didn’t want to be there anyway, so what harm could leaving do? She wouldn’t forgive him. _So drive, Max_. _Drive away, right **now**!_ But he couldn’t will himself to do so. He couldn’t leave; he couldn’t drive away into the night anymore than he could have stopped himself from coming there in the first place... because just like every other moment in his life… he couldn’t just leave Liz Parker, no matter how much he tried. 

So… he just sat in his car, watching as Liz swept up the dining area, humming softly to herself. He just sat, watching as the lights of the Crashdown faded and the night began nearing dawn…. He sat in his car just watching, waiting for the moment when he could turn on the engine and leave her behind forever. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Dad…Dad, wake up… I’m home.” Kyle shook his dad’s shoulder firmly, praying that he wasn’t passed out drunk on the couch… and his prays were answered when his dad jerked up violently and glared at his son, all the files piled around him falling to the floor. Out of his peripheral vision, Kyle noticed that Alex’s photo was poking out the side of one of them, the word ‘suicide’ scribbled across it.

Kyle took a deep breath.  

“Where you been?” Jim Valenti slurred sharply, struggling to sit upright. His dad may not be passed out drunk, but he was _definitely_ drunk enough to get there, if the two half-empty Jack Daniels bottles laying on the coffee table was anything to go by.

Kyle shrugged his shoulders. “I was with Maria.” He took his dad’s left hand, pulling him up off the couch the rest of the way. “Dad, how much have you had to dr-“

“Where’s Tess?” Jim interjected.

“I don’t know.” Kyle raised his eyebrow, watching his dad closely. “She left with Max.” His dad groaned, swaying a little to the side, and Kyle hoped that he wouldn’t fall over. “She’s safe.” Kyle decided to add. 

“She should be home,” Jim snapped, swatting his son’s hand away when he swayed again.

“Well…she isn’t?” Kyle mumbled, rubbing his forehead in frustration. He hated when his dad got drunk since he wasn’t a particularly nice one. “Dad… I’ll wait for Tess. Just go to bed,” he said, feeling dejected. He didn’t need to be reminded, once again, about how broken everybody in his life was. Couldn’t he have a break from the uselessness and hopelessness that continually consumed his everyday life now? Couldn’t they all?

He just wanted everything to be like the way it used to be… the running, fearing for his life and the lives of his friends…that he could stand. He knew how to handle that… but this…. the never ending feeling of being frayed, roughed around the edges, the snapping… he couldn’t stand that... especially when his dad looked like he could probably drop to the floor and pass out if he stayed out in the living room any longer… and Kyle wasn’t in the mood to pick him up off the floor… he couldn’t even pick up himself up. 

Jim gave his son an odd look; he was studying him with the same intensity that he would use to stare at a suspect. He felt like his son was trying to hide something… like he was trying to protect him from something…maybe his breaking point … or, maybe, he was disappointed in him. Jim did promise Kyle that he wouldn’t drink again after the binge he went on after his wife left.

“Okay,” Jim sighed, deflated. He was too drunk to try and figure out what his son was up to. He’d ask him about it tomorrow. “Tell her she’s grounded,” he added sternly… or as sternly as a drunken man could be.

“I’ll do that,” Kyle said, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. “I promise.” 

“Kyle?” Jim asked, hoping his son would be willing to hear it right now.

“Yes?” Kyle gave his dad a questioning look before picking up one of the Jack Daniels bottles and stared at it intently. Maybe his dad had the right idea…. Maybe being drunk would make him forget everything for awhile. Besides, Kyle didn’t think that Tess would show up anytime soon; he might as well drink while he waited. 

“I love you…” Jim paused when Kyle raised an eyebrow at him.  “You know that, right?” Jim asked, pulling Kyle into a sloppy hug.

Kyle tensed; his father hadn’t been this sentimental since the Skins had wiped everybody out in Roswell. “Yeah, Dad,” Kyle said shakily, hesitantly returning the hug. “I know.”

 

_**TBC...** _


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few changes to chapters 9 and 12 that i made a long time ago to the original posting on the Roswell fanfic websites i mostly post this fic on, but never made to the changes to the document that i have the story stored on. 
> 
> So I went back and made them. Nothing that you have to go back and read up on... just know that Alex traveled to Arizona instead of North Dakota like I had originally planned. Someone had pointed out to me a long time ago that story wise, it would have made more sense to have Alex much more closer to New Mexico as i could have him and still have his own journey while on his own. 
> 
> So there you have it. Enjoy the new chapter:)

He didn’t think it was possible, but Stark was an even smaller town than the ones that he had passed through on his way to get there in the first place. The population barely cleared hundred, the ‘Welcome to Stark’ post wouldn’t have made him feel any more welcome if it had been written on a chalkboard in big bold letters with different colors for each word, and the town itself had the atmosphere of a place where people with nothing left to lose would came to die. The place looked barren, void of any life. He was afraid that if he breathed too hard, the town might just crumble into dust and blow away from him in the humid wind.

He raised his eyebrow over the rim of his sunglasses and licked his lips. It was no wonder that, when he had looked online, all he had been able to find was a blue, red, and white striped postcard with the word “Stark’ stamped on it to send to Tess… because if they had shown what the town really looked like on that postcard, nobody in their right mind would ever want to go through there.

Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if a tumbleweed came rolling right past him at any moment; he was almost _expecting_ one to. Sighing, he decided to take off his sunglasses; he didn’t seem to need them anymore. He was pretty sure that the town hadn’t seen the sun in years. 

He stuffed the glasses in the front pocket of his denim jacket and continued to stare at the bleak scenery before him. Why he had chosen to come to this wasteland to wait for Tess’ call was way beyond the cusp of his mental capacity. He guessed the idea of a place that he had never been before had, at the time, been overwhelmingly appealing to him when he had made his plans to leave. Besides, he was kind of glad that Stark looked and felt a lot like the personification of death captured in a tiny box of a town… at least no one would think to search for him—or any other possible living soul for that matter-- in a place like Stark.

He sighed and swung a small knapsack over his right shoulder. -- He had stolen it about four days into his travels when he decided to abandon the small duffel he originally had with him back in Texas because it was too much of a hassle to carry it around. – Decisions were in order and his first was that the best course of action was to keep moving through the small town.  Maybe if he walked long enough, far enough, he would eventually find what he was looking for.

He had only been walking for about thirty minutes when he came across the ratty looking old diner just on the outskirts of Main Street that he had been searching for since he entered Stark. Like everything else in Stark, the small café was falling apart into nothingness.

The building’s paint was beginning to peel off in odd places, the sign—which was supposed to read _Lulu’s Special Links Café_ above the entrance of the diner —had letters missing or fading away on it, making it difficult for him to read. But he didn’t need to understand the sign to know that he was in the right place… the only place within miles that had the beaten up payphone installed on the side of the wooden building with the number 541-222-0919 printed on it.  He laughed happily; he was finally there. He had finally found it.

 

Relieved and excited, he rushed toward the payphone, dropping his knapsack on the ground next to him. It was an old payphone… so old, in fact, that there was an actual electric cord sticking out of the bottom of the receiver instead of the metallic kind that were on payphones of a more recent vintage. He kind of admired that, the nostalgic feel it provoked in him. It was the only thing that actually stood out in the black and white town.

He ran his finger softly along the outlines of the wire phone cord. Feeling a small snag in the plastic line, he groaned loudly. He might have found the payphone that he was looking for, but he wasn’t so sure that it would actually work. Even if the snag in the line turned out to be nothing to worry about, it was still an old payphone. There was still a risk that it might have been disconnected or stopped working a long time ago… It looked like people of this town hadn’t used the phone since the late forties.

He rubbed his forehead and groaned again; he could see his plan beginning to unravel right in front of him. _This couldn’t be happening to me_ … He needed this phone to work; he had prayed that this phone would work… his life and those of others depended on it.

“Admiring the payphone, boy?” an unfamiliar voice asked, causing every muscle in his body to tense. His senses began to work overtime as fear overwhelmed him. _It’s not possible! How’d they found me?_ He had been so careful to cover his tracks.

He slowly put his left hand in his jean jacket, reaching for the small gun he had stuffed in the inside pocket. He cocked it and turned around sharply, ready to fire through the fabric of his jacket and kill-- but he rolled his eyes at himself when he came face to face with the person behind him. It was only a worried patron coming out of the diner. He wasn’t one of _them_.

 _Get a fucking grip!_ He thought, putting the gun back on safety and turning back toward the payphone.  _You gonna start shooting everybody who speaks to you now?_   

“You looking to use it?” The man asked politely.    

“Does it work?” He asked the man a moment later, beginning to scrape off some of the dirt and grime that had collected over the number of the payphone.

The man quirked an eyebrow and reassured him, “Damn, right it does,” he said proudly. “It’s the only phone in all of Stark that gets enough reception that allows us to call outside of town.”

He nodded briefly, satisfied and relieved… but there was still a question he needed to ask. “Can it receive calls too?” The man gave him a look of suspicious at his question and he was sorry he had to ask it. The man probably didn’t see many outsiders… especially those as young, odd, and scruffy looking as he was, asking so many questions about a damn payphone.

“Yeah, I guess. If the person knew the number,” the man answered, before asking his own question.  “You got a job, boy?”

“No.” _Why does it matter?_ he thought, a little annoyed, _I won’t be here long enough to work._

The man nodded his head. “Why don’t you work for me at my convenience store just down the block a piece?” the man asked, smiling at him.

He stopped rubbing the numbers above the telephone and turned to face the man again, his face knitting in confusion.

“Why?” he asked, curious. He was the one who was suspicious now. If he had learned anything in his short time of living, it was that nobody offered anything for free.  There was always a price to be paid… and he wanted to know what this man’s price was upfront.

“Why not?” The old man gave him a puzzled look, like he was stunned by his suspicions. He inwardly rolled his eyes. Wasn’t he just as suspicious of _him_ just a moment ago?

 “Because you don’t even know me,” he replied a moment later, disgruntled. Was everybody so dense that far up north?  “I could clock you over the head with a lead pipe and steal all your money from the cash register for all you know.”

The man laughed. The man actually laughed at him. _Fuck you too, buddy,_ he thought, sneering.

“I don’t think so, boy… I can tell you’re not the type,” the man said, laughing at him even more when he scoffed. “Besides, you seem like a polite enough fellow and you look like you need the money to save up to get on out of here anyway.”

He actually rolled his eyes at the man that time. The guy definitely wasn’t a good judge of character and had a fucked up sense of logic… but he was right about one thing. He did need the money.

“I’m expecting a call anyway… so I’ll work for you.” He paused, staring at the payphone again. “But only for a month… I don’t stay anywhere longer than a month, understand?”

“I got you,” the man mumbled, offering his hand. “I’m Frank, by the way.”

“What’s your name, kid?” Frank asked, still smiling. Always smiling… at a total stranger… and he couldn’t shake the sense that it was more of a leer than a smile. He felt his stomach drop. He had a feeling that there was something deeply wrong with this guy… Something that made him want to politely take back his offer to work for him and run the other way… Something that told him that maybe he should have fired his gun anyway… Something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

The man was just being polite to him, offering him a job. He was being paranoid, wary… like he was waiting for the sky to fall. Life on the run will to do that to you. He was wound up too tight; he needed to remember to chill out and relax… that not everybody was out to get him.  What could possibly be wrong with someone willing to offer a good job to a guy who looked like he was on coke and hadn’t showered in days? He was just being a Good Samaritan… there should be more people like that in the world.    

“Alex,” He said a few moments later as the man still smiled at him and, for the first time, Alex decided to smile back. “My name’s Alex.” He repeated, shaking the guy’s hand.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

_Breathe in. Inhale._

_Breathe out. Exhale._

_Breathe! Just breathe!_

Isabel felt as though the room was swimming before her eyelids, everything within her line of view unfocused, unbalanced. Breathing was no longer involuntary for her; she felt like she had to keep chanting over and over again in her head to breathe in and out to keep herself alive. Nothing significant would register in her brain—colors kept washing in and out of focus, flashes of starry-light yellow floated in and out of view, to be replaced by the darkness of her room.

 

She had somehow forgotten the ability to distinguish the difference between reality and her dreams anymore. She felt like she was in a never ending nightmare… forever meant to cry herself to sleep and awake. She couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling, willing herself to breathe, hoping that she’d succumb to the darkness creeping up inside of her.

The light of the stars glued to the ceiling over her overwhelmed her sight, temporally blinding her; the starry yellow that had come and gone out of her sight line before finally making sense to her again. She could still remember the day she had gone out and bought the fake star system that was now taped all over her room… it was a week after she had stargazed with Alex in Frasier Woods. 

She couldn’t understand why she had bought them; the purchase had been an impulse, almost like something beyond herself had willed her to buy those stars… Hell, she hadn’t even realized what she had done until she had walked into her room that night and pulled out the bag from her purse, two dozen plastic stars falling into her soft hands. It was like a part of her had wanted to preserve the feeling of that night for all eternity. Her mind forced her to confront a part of herself that felt something indefinable for the strange, lanky boy who had quickly become her anchor--a deep seeded longing in her heart that made her stop cold whenever she saw a star in the sky, making her realize that the stars on her wall paled in comparison to the feeling she got when she sat on the cold November grass to stare upon the stars filling the Roswell sky … It was the only feeling within her that was constant and pure in her life.   

 

 _But even that has seemed to have gone rotten, hasn’t it, Isabel?_ A cruel, unfamiliar voice—that sounded a lot like hers but couldn’t be-- said in the back of her head.She no longer yearned for that feeling; she resented that feeling now, wishing it would fade away along with that piece of her heart that had once stored it. She no longer became paralyzed by the stars in the sky, praying for them to shine brighter in the night sky. She no longer longed for a lot of things… except for the boy who had once provoked them… As for the anger that was beginning to quickly take over her heart … Isabel desperately waited for it to evaporate.

 

She shifted in her bed, turning away from the ceiling. The dim yellow disappeared from her view; a white sparkle replaced the color in her mind and her left hand twisted the wedding ring that she had slipped onto her middle finger back at Alex’s. She could feel the diamond scraping against the edge of her hand. The diamond was small… probably because he couldn’t afford anything bigger… but it still drew enough blood that it began dripping from the palm of her hand onto her bed sheets.

 

She didn’t care. She’d get rid of the bed sheets in the morning… It was just vital to feel something… _anything_ … besides the deep, invisible prodding sting of anger. She needed the pain to fill up her every sense, distracting her from the unbearable awareness in her heart, her soul… even if it was small compared to it… but the diamond tearing her flesh was pain that she could understand, it was the kind of pain that kept her human. It kept her from turning into the animal… the _monster_ … she’d feared she would one day become-- the kind of monster that Maria had thought that she was back in the earlier days of their friendship. Of course, she wouldn’t have called what she had with the humans ‘friendship’ back then.

 

So she kept using the ring as her anchor… the pain the diamond caused against her hand was her only link to her human half. She slowly began to breathe on her own again, the chanting in her head dying down. Colors stopped swimming in and out and she could tell that she was no longer in a dream, but back in her life, in the reality that she had worked hard to build, the one she understood. It was crazy that it took a ring that would never fulfill its purpose to make her sane again… It was sad that her nights… her life… came down to staring at her ceiling in a haze, unable to tell what was the dream and what was reality. It was the wedding ring of the boy who might have been her husband… if things had been different… if God had been merciful… that kept her from breaking down completely and going insane.

 

The person she was turning into was holding onto the past and slowly letting go of her hook on reality. Day by day its grip inched out of her hold … until there was nothing left of her but the husk of what she used to be, what she could have been… She realized, with a surreal sense of horror, that she didn’t mind that person so much. No, she didn’t mind the person that she was becoming… not even a little

 -/-/-/-/-/-/-

Maria took out the key to Michael’s apartment from her purse and unlocked the door, using her petite body to push the door softly to keep it from creaking and alerting him to her presence. She was afraid that, if he knew that she was sneaking into his apartment after everything that happened, he would tell her in no uncertain terms to fuck off and never come back.

 

She closed the door quickly behind her once she walked in, slowly creeping through the living room, her footsteps muffled by the old shag carpet that the previous owner had laid down and into the wood paneled hallway that led to his bedroom, trying to avoid the wood board in the center of hallway that creaked whenever she stepped on it.

 

She stopped in front of his bedroom, staring at his large, muscular form, sprawled over half of the twin bed and vaguely noticed that the bedroom door was wide open, swinging back and forth softly from the breeze flowing in through the window that he had left cracked open. It was almost like he had expected her to come over and crawl into bed with him. In fact, she didn’t have a single doubt in her mind.

 

He snuggled deeper into the bed, probably dreaming of the ways that she was going to apologize to him when she came. She almost laughed out loud at that thought, but instead she fidgeted a little in her dress that she had worn to the funeral, trying to keep herself from scoffing into the dark… but she did roll her eyes. If he thought that she had come over to apologize for what had happened earlier, then he could think again. She hadn’t come over to apologize; she hadn’t come over to hear him apologize either… She didn’t even come over to have sex. She came over because it was time to face reality… to see what she had always been happy to ignore. But she couldn’t ignore it any longer, not when the air swirling around them… their group of friends… was different now. Not when the glue that had always seemed to hold their fragile partnership together was slowly, but painfully, coming undone right in front of them. Things were changing and it was foolish to deny it; it was like Kyle said… it had become aliens vs. humans.

 

 “I’m not going to apologize,” Maria whispered into the imperfect darkness engulfing his small room. Despite the silence, she could tell that he wasn’t asleep… His breathing quickened at the sound of her voice and she could hear it all the way across the room. “There was nothing we could have done…”

 

Maria could see Michael’s muscles stiffen in anger from where she was standing, his hands balling into fists. She leaned a little against the door frame, waiting to see if he would say anything… but he still didn’t acknowledge her presence and, after a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Maria continued.   

 

“You had to leave with Max…” Maria ground out, trying to sound stronger than she felt in the moment. She felt like she was going to shatter into tiny little pieces at one wrong word, one wrong turn. It was like the  _glue_  that made her a flesh and bone person was slowly beginning to peel away, ready to expose someone that she didn’t even realize had been there beneath her skin… It was almost like she was the alien, not Michael. “And I had to stay… with Liz and Kyle,” she breathed, her voice sounding small and foreign even to her own ears.

 

“Why?” Michael asked suddenly, startling her.  His voice was grim and bitter compared to hers. “Why did you have to stay?”

 

“Because it’s just the way it is,” Maria said, closing her eyes at Michael’s growl, trying to stall the tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. He was still facing the wall, but while his body language had originally been inviting and cocky when she first entered the hallway, he had pulled further way from her, almost silently asking her to leave and not come back.

 

She sighed, growing frustrated at herself for not being stronger when it came to him and at Michael for not understanding that he needed to be less stubborn when it came to her. He knew what was coming, what she was going to say, and instead of making it easier on her, he was making it harder… trying to make her hate him.  _Or maybe he is making it easier for me,_ she thought, a deep sadness overtaking her.

 

Maybe he knew that if she didn’t hate him by the end of that conversation… she wouldn’t be able to let him go. Michael was always better at understanding her than she was at understanding herself.

 

“Just because… we have what we have…” she paused, willing herself to go on. “Doesn’t mean that we can just drop what we had before it,” she said desperately, trying to make him understand what needed to happen… trying to make _herself_ understand thatit needed to be done.

 

“All you’ve ever known is Isabel and Max,” Maria reasoned, thankful for the darkness of his apartment. She was pretty sure that she was crying. “As I have with Al-Al-Alex, Liz, and Kyle,” She could feel her heart tighten painfully at the mention of Alex’s name, her voice breaking. It still hurt too much to say his name. She guessed that it would always hurt.

 

“What are you saying, Maria?” Michael asked. His voice was softer than before; he sounded almost like he was pleading with her for some kind of understanding that she couldn’t give him. She didn’t know how to.

 

He stirred in his bed, kicking the sheets off. He moved a little in her direction, like he was trying to decide if he was going to stay in the bed, cold and distant from her, or get up and hold her close, comfort her. She prayed that he would stay in the bed. And, after a few indecisive glances, he did.

 

“What I am saying is…” Maria trailed off, trying to find the words she needed. It was like there suddenly were no words to explain what needed to be done… or was it that she couldn’t say them, purposely making them float away in her mind so that things could just stay the way they had been between them. “That when it comes down to it… when this war between us all  _really_  starts and lines are drawn in the sand… you will go with Max.” Maria finally explained, her voice hitching, her lungs gasping for air.

 

“And I will go with Liz,” she finished. She was crying a little harder, unable to hold back. Her body was rocking violently with her barely concealed sobs.   

 

“And when this war  _really_  begins,” Michael said ambivalently, ignoring the small hitches of dry heaving that filled the air in his bedroom,  a fact she was grateful for, “Does… does that mean that we are over?” Michael waited, his body moving off the bed frame a little, almost like he was a moment away from running toward her and holding her in his arms. She moved a little further into his room.

 

“That we can’t be together anymore?” he asked a moment later, apprehension jumbled in his every word, making his voice slightly slurred.

 

“Yes, Michael,” Maria said shakily between sobs. She was unable to hold herself together anymore. She could feel the tears rolling down her face with abandon. “Yes, I think it does.”

 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Tess was a little ashamed that she was so fascinated by the amber flames blazing before her-- the snap, crackling, and popping ringing her eardrums. The twigs she had picked up around Frasier Woods and firewood she had stolen from the local hardware store on her way out there were caving in on themselves in the small pit as the flames continued to eat up the postcard she had thrown into the fire a while ago. She could feel the heat of the flames bouncing, reflecting in her wide eyes. Her dark blue irises were almost a stark black in the pale moonlight.

 

The warmth of the fire was sending tingles through her body, making her face and her hands fuzzy and hot to the touch. She swore that she felt like she was one step away from catching a flame herself… and she thought she’d eagerly welcome it… welcome the feeling of something so tangible, textural, that she could almost taste it, let it roll over her body in chronic waves of relief and pain. She would finally be able to get what she longed for, a departure from being completely numb… immobile. 

 

She picked up one of the remaining twigs in her stock pile and poked the flame a little, rearranging some of the sticks and wood before deciding to throw the twig in there as well. She briefly looked up at the sky above her, seeing hints of pink and yellow shining softly down from the sky; the cold breeze rustled her hair a bit, cooling her cheeks and making the flame flicker a little in the declining moonlight.  _It’s nearing dawn,_ she thought, sighing… It was time to let the flame die down and go. She needed to head home soon; she was already in enough trouble with Mr. Valenti as it was.

 

Tess had avoided having to deal with him when she had snuck out of the house early the other day. She hadn’t wanted to deal with Sheriff Valenti’s scolding; she could barely tolerate his attempts to parent her on one of her good days… She was grateful for a place to stay, but he wasn’t her father and she couldn’t deal with his acting like he was… not then. It was one of the reasons she hadn’t gone home when she had stormed out of Alex’s room and opted instead to take the long walk deep into the woods and make a fire. She needed to burn the postcard anyway… but it wasn’t the main reason… No, the main reason was Kyle.

 

She had a feeling that, after what had happened in Alex’s room yesterday, she wouldn’t be quite so welcome in Kyle’s eyes… In fact, she had a feeling that her presence in the Valenti house would invoke righteous rage, resentment, and judgment in Kyle, especially considering all the other burdens in his life. She could feel that she was no longer welcomed in Kyle’s heart… in his life… when he bore holes into her back with his angry gaze as she walked out of the room with Max and Isabel. She could feel it vibrating off him, ready to weigh her down.

 

Tess knew that he was angry with her for choosing Max’s side, for putting up with Max’s ‘King’ act, for belittling Alex’s life by saying that he killed himself... and she couldn’t fault him for that; he had every right to be angry. She was even a little angry with herself for having done it, for putting so little weight on Alex’s life when it had meant so much to her, but… it was her job, it was what she had to do, what she  _needed_  to do. It was all part of the plan… and she needed to stick with the plan and, if that included her having to constantly act like a back-stabbing, careless, selfish bitch, then so be it. She was going to get the job done… no matter what. She owed that to her friend… and she owed that to herself.

 

She breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh air of the wilderness. The pine needles and old sap kindled into the air, the scent wafting up her nose along with the mixture of wood smoke and the morning dew which dampened her shoes. She watched, mesmerized, as the fire slowly began to die down to a black, sooty stain in the dirt, the white puffs of smoke evaporating into nothingness, blending into the morning sky.

 

Sighing, content interlaced into her every bone and muscle, Tess stood up, rubbing her converses against the wet grass of the forest. She couldn’t hide out in Frasier Woods forever. She had to go back and, as the sun slowly but surely began to peek beautifully over the horizon, beating down softly over the desert dunes and cliffs lining the outskirts of the small woods… she figured it was as good a time as any.

 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Michael couldn’t stand it anymore. He could have sworn he could still hear Maria’s violent sobs as she walked out of the room… as she walked out of his life. Everything that was said, every unsaid emotion still echoing off the walls of his tiny room, filled up the dark spaces of his mind to be replayed over and over again – existing for the sole purpose of torturing him. He couldn’t take it anymore; he was going crazy in his apartment all alone with nothing but his thoughts. It was like he was imprisoned, bound by all the things that he should have said to keep her from walking out his front door… the things that he had needed to say to her, but hadn’t. He was glad he didn’t… because if he had, he was afraid he would truly have nothing left to hold onto.

 

What was he so afraid of? Why hadn’t he been able to say all the things that he had wanted to say? What had made her so much stronger than he was? For such a powerful creature, he was pretty weak… and he hated it. And he hated her for it; she had made him weak… like he knew she would.

 

The sun was beginning to rise, shining in streams through the blinds of his room. He wanted the new day to go away, to stop and turn back to a day where everything made sense to him, when he didn’t feel like he had died right along with Alex… when he still had Maria. He wanted to be clueless again. He wanted to go back to being alone, to being blind to the burden that his life had brought her and all their human friends, because than maybe she would have stayed… if they could just pretend again… be a group again. He wanted to blame Max for what was happening… but he knew he was just as much to blame in the dysfunction… Sometimes… on his worst days… it felt like he was more culpable than Max or Tess… and much more than Isabel.  But he didn’t want to think about that… he didn’t want to think about anything.

 

He didn’t want to feel anymore. He just didn’t want… Fuck Maria! She was nothing without him. She’d be back… she always came back. Another thing… Fuck Max! He could grow a set of balls and deal with the mess that he created with Liz. And, most of all, fuck Alex! Fuck him for dying, the lanky bastard! He had to turn the world upside down by killing himself, didn’t he?! Why?! Was his life so fucking miserable that he had to pull a chicken game and get his head smashed against the windshield?! -- _Was I so bad? --_  He shook his head. Did he think about any of us in the end? Was that the last thing he thought about before his brainpan got splattered against the interior of his piece of shit car? Did he think about Isabel? Maria… Liz? _Did he think about me?_ The thought sneaked into his head.

 

He sneered at the thought. Nobody would think about him before they died… not even Maria. He almost wanted to be ashamed for not being more of a man, for not being strong… but it didn’t matter anymore…. She didn’t matter anymore.

 

Maybe Alex had the right idea. Maybe he was really that genius that he always proclaimed to be; he must have known that everybody dies alone… that we all  _must_  die alone to prevent the hurt that would come from being held while taking that last breath. Maybe that was why he didn’t tell anybody that he was in pain… why he drove so far away, so far into the dark of that deserted highway... why Alex decided to kill himself the way that he did.

 

He must have known it… because everybody we love leaves eventually… It was the only thing that made sense; it was the only thing that Michael could be sure about. So why prolong the inevitable? Michael was just as alone as Alex… if not more. He was alone in the world as much as the one he came from… He could be like Whitman, not care about anything anymore. He didn’t think he had it in his heart to care… Not anymore.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Kyle continued to sing the words to some stupid ass song that had been nesting in his head for the last week lazily, almost clumsily—every word coming out in half jumbled sentences or incoherent ramblings that were once supposed to be lyrics to a song. His smooth, but slurred, voice singing botched lyrics around the small living room of his house seemed loud to his ears, roaring, His voice almost reached to the deafening scream of a mash pit; he was almost tempted to cover his ears and sing even louder, screaming insane nonsense at the top of his lungs. He drunkenly thanked God that his father was passed out in the other room and couldn’t hear him acting like a fucking jackass… screaming, cussing, and being generally stupid just for the sake of it being able to… just to remind himself that he wasn’t going completely out of his ever loving mind.

 

Yes, he felt like thanking God endlessly that his father didn’t have to see him like that; his father had enough to worry about and an equally drunken and idiotic son didn’t need to be one of them.

 

Kyle took another swig of the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels he had viciously begun lapping up the moment his father had slammed the door behind him and passed out. He leaned his head further back in the recliner that Tess had demanded they buy after the whole Christmas fiasco, wishing that his head would stop hurting so much. He hadn’t been able to get rid of the pulsing headache that had begun earlier when he was talking to Maria out at the quarry. The alcohol didn’t help things any; he could practically feel his head drowning in the liquor that he had drunk since he got home… but he couldn’t seem to stop consuming it…

 

He banged his head lightly against the soft fabric of the recliner, to keep his mind off of his headache… but maybe he did it to make his head hurt more, to feel what was in his heart… to feel the pain that he hadn’t known was lurking there until then-- or maybe, most likely, it was just that he had nothing better to do than hurt himself… But something was telling him that none of those theories were right; it was almost like something was gnawing at his brain, telling him to think harder… think clear, longer. He was almost there… he was so close to knowing all the answers. It was like the feeling was instinctively a part of him, as natural as breathing… The answers that he was seeking were a base coat to his whole being.

 

Kyle shook his head, taking another drink. He didn’t know… It didn’t really matter much anyway; the knowledge that such a dawning realization wasn’t going to change a thing about his life… it wasn’t going to change the fact that he was still yearning for something so simple yet so beyond him… Something he could hold in his hands. A wider understanding of something--- “Fuck that,” he huffed suddenly, banging the glass bottle lightly against his hip. “Take another drink, Valenti.” And after a few seconds, he did.

 

There wasn’t any sense thinking on things like that; he’d had enough deep thoughts to last one lifetime. He needed to stick to something he knew and understood – drinking and playing sports. The liquor in his hands was something he knew, he understood… not some unfathomable thought that seemed to turn to thick puffs of smoke every time he felt like he was close to approaching it. Knowing those things didn’t matter… He was still going to be sitting in the same chair, fruitlessly waiting for a girl that would probably never return home if Max Evans had anything to say about it.  He’d still be sitting in a chair, drunk and waiting… It was better to know nothing except what was in front of him, what was in his hands, what he could easily touch. He didn’t need to know the matter of the universe… He just didn’t need to know.

 

“You shouldn’t go and feel so sorry for yourself, Kyle.” A familiar voice spoke, chuckling good naturedly. Kyle leaned forward abruptly. The glass bottle clinked from his lap and onto the floor with a loud thud, breaking the glass into a million pieces and spilling the rest of the alcohol inside onto the hardwood floor.

 

That couldn’t have been Tess… That wasn’t her voice; he knew the sound of her hypnotic vocal tones from just about anywhere. He’d be able to stand in the middle of a crowded room and walk toward it without a doubt in his mind… but this voice… this voice was one that was far more instinctive to him, almost like knowing what to do if someone had put a basketball or a football in his hand after years of not playing the game. This voice was one he had been introduced to on the first day of third grade, when the small, smiley kid had asked him to play on the swing set of the West Roswell Elementary school playground. The voice didn’t belonged to Tess, it belonged to…

 

“Alex…” 

 

_**TBC...** _


	14. Chapter 14

“Alex…” Kyle repeated, his soft voice echoing against the four walls of the living room. Tess shoved her hands deeper in her pockets, closing her eyes. She leaned against the large wooden doorframe of the Valenti’s front door, frozen. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She felt like she was going to start hyperventilating. What?! What did he just say?!?  
  
“Kyle…” she croaked, her eyes still closed shut… shifting slightly on the balls of her tiny feet. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.  
  
“Alex… Alex… is that you?” Kyle asked sharply, his eyes squinting in her direction against the dim lighting of the living room. He continued to lean forward in the recliner, his worn down dress shoes cracking, scraping the litter of broken glass against the hardwood floor.   
  
“Alex… Alex, come on! Answer me!” He yelled a moment later, making her flinch. She kept her eyes closed even tighter. There was nothing that she could do… Kyle was just… he was just hallucinating. He was drunk and hallucinating. That was it. That was all… but deep down she knew; she knew with all her heart that wasn't it. That wasn't all. No… he was… Kyle was beginning to break out of the mind warp.  
  
She inhaled sharply, opening her eyes. There was nothing that she could do… nothing except mind warp him again.   
  
“Kyle,” she called again, hoping that she could just break him from his daze without having to perform a mind warp. “Kyle… Kyle, it’s me.” She paused when he snorted. “It’s Tess… I’m home.” Tess leaned forward slowly, walking away from the front doorframe. She closed the door behind her.   
  
“Tess?” he drawled out, turning his head away from her, realization dawning on him. “Tess…” He said softly, dropping his body back against the recliner hard, causing the recliner to bounce backward slightly. “Tess,” he repeated again, sighing. “I’m sorry… I’m drunk.” He slurred, laying his arm across his face.   
  
“It’s fine,” she shrugged and shoved her hands deeper in her pocket, trying to play nonchalance. Besides the whole hallucinating Alex thing, the situation didn't really bother her all that much… She knew that there was chance that one of the Valenti boys would be drunk by the time she got home. She just hadn't expected it to be Kyle…  
  
“Are you okay?” she asked a moment later, breaking the silence of the tense atmosphere around her. Reluctantly, she walked over to the couch and squatted next to him, rubbing his free arm.   
  
“Huh?” He mumbled, his bloodshot eyes peeking over his arm directly at her.   
  
“Are you okay?” she repeated again, a little louder, still lightly stroking his arm.  
  
“Fine,” he huffed, tearing his arm away from her. “I’m drunk and hallucinating a dead friend… I couldn't be any finer,” he replied hotly.   
  
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed. When did it become so hard to talk to Kyle? To comfort him? Maybe the moment you started excessively lying, faking the death of a friend, belittling the fears of others, and generally being a horrible human being, a small voice in the back of her mind said venomously. She wanted to scream at that voice, tell it to shut up and insist that it wasn't her fault… that everything it had said wasn't true… but it was true. It was all true. How could she expect to still know how to be around Kyle when she wasn't the same person she had been when she first moved into the Valenti home? She couldn't be… and she was tired of being expected to.   
  
“I’m going to bed.” She said shortly, trying to shake her somber thoughts away. When did self-pity become a part of her personality? She began to walk away to get some much needed rest when Kyle’s arm shot out and grabbed her elbow.   
  
She turned to him, ready to shout at him, tell him to get his drunken hands off of her, when he said, “Don’t leave me. I… I don’t wanna be alone.” He whispered desperately, lightly stroking her elbow with his thumb. “Can you s-sit next to me until I fall asleep?” He asked, his slurred voice intermixed with fear and fatigue.   
  
He looked so much older than she remembered him being yesterday, laden… he looked overwhelmed. Like he had let everything in his life overtake him as he had drunk his sorrows away… all the guilt and sadness. His face was worn out… washed up… and it was all her fault.   
  
All of this was all her fault… her fault for pulling out that stupid book and asking Alex to help her decode it, her fault for getting too far over her head and having no way out of all the trouble but to fake the death of a friend. Everything was her fault… She hadn't allowed herself to be happy with what she had, to be happy to have a place on earth… Sometimes she wished that she hadn't come to Roswell at all. Maybe Liz and Maria were right to hate her. She caused nothing but trouble and destruction in her wake. Maybe she should just disappear and never return again.   
  
Tess sent him a bittersweet smile, “Okay.” She whispered softly, sweetly, and sat gently on the couch cushion closet to him. He passed out about an hour later, his big, warm hand going limp in her small one. She continued to hold his hand, letting all the sorrow, the guilt and worry take over her as an uneasy, but much needed sleep finally caught up with her too.   
  
She was still holding his hand when she woke up a few hours later.   
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Isabel glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard of her mother’s car—it read 2:30 PM. She had been sitting in her parked car for about two hours. She sighed, slumping deeper into the driver’s seat, feeling even more emotionally exhausted and drained than she’d been all week… She hadn't even been this emotionally wrecked at Alex’s funeral. It was unnerving her, causing a deep pain in the center of her chest.   
  
She still didn't even know why she had allowed herself to be talked into this… into meeting the Whitmans. Actually, she hadn't agreed to this meeting at all. Her mother had picked up the phone and agreed to the set-up before Isabel had even known what was happening and could voice her protests.   
  
“Mom… I can’t even go. Max has the car.” Isabel whined weakly, running her hands through her bed hair. She silently cursed herself. It was a weak excuse that her mother would see right through. She might as well have said that she would be late for school on a Sunday.   
  
“You can take my car, dear.” Her mother offered, sending her daughter a pointed look that said ‘I’m not taking any of your bullshit today, Isabel Amanda Evans!!! You’re going and that’s the end of it!!’   
  
“I’m not working today.” Her mother said instead, laying a big plate of biscuits and gravy with a giant dash of Tabasco on top in front of her. “Now, eat fast and then go take a shower. They’re expecting you at twelve.”   
  
Isabel laid her head against the steering wheel, trying to stifle her urge to scream her head off. Why couldn't people just leave her alone? It was bad enough that she had to be polite to the people who walked up to her at school or on the street wanting to offer their condolences, but did she have to deal with the Whitmans in their sorrow too?   
  
With all the other people, she could just pretend to be okay or stick her nose in the air and forge indifference at the subject but… these were Alex’s parents. They were people that she hadn't even met when he had been alive because she was so concerned about making a good first impression and just because he was dead now didn't mean that fear had gone away… In fact, it mattered even more now. She was the girl that their son had been in love with for so many years… the girl that he wanted to marry, to give them grandchildren with… to live with for the rest of his life.  
  
It made sense that they would want to meet her, especially now that she was one of the few links left to their son… but that didn't change the fact that she didn't know if she could handle being in a place that had Alex’s life force imprinted all over it. She could hardly handle being in her own house, her own room, or even at school for that very same reason.   
  
She constantly expected for Alex to climb through her bedroom window, like he had the night after finding out that the Skins had invaded Roswell, to be sitting at her couch with a bowl full of popcorn and crappy girlie movies like back when she had been scared to fall asleep because she hadn't wanted to dream of being intimate with Michael when she could barely be intimate with the one man that she wanted to be close to… Hell, she still even expected to see Alex sitting at the desk a few rows across from her, smiling that goofy smile that she had grown to love that was always directed at her… a beautiful, if not awkward, smile that was reserved especially for just her. Even Maria had once said that in all the years she had known Alex, she had never seen him smile like that before.   
  
She could barely deal with all those wishful thoughts cluttering, clouding up her mind on a daily basis… Did she need to have a place that was only all about Alex’s aura filling up her head as well? She yelled, slamming her fist down hard onto the steering wheel.   
  
She didn't know how much more she could take. She wanted all of it to go away… all the pain and memories to fade into thin air in the back of her mind until she went back to never having met or thought about Alex at all. She wanted to go back to being the bitch that she used to be… She was too soft, too weak. She wanted to curse the day that Max had saved Liz’s life… the day where it really all began.   
  
She continued to yell so loud that she feared that the whole neighborhood could hear her, but she continued to beat up her mother’s car so badly that she realized, with disconnected horror, that she might have broken her own hand. She was yelling so loudly that she didn't hear the shutter of a camera going off in the car across the street from her.   
  
-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
His partner held the picture closer to his face, smiling. It wasn't much of anything really… just a Polaroid of a beautiful young girl lingering in her car in front of a quaint little house. It could almost be seen as stalking– talking pictures of such a statuesque beauty– but it didn't matter to him whatever anyone thought.   
  
They had broken ground by getting this small piece of evidence. They had discovered something valuable in the case by deciding to go there on a whim… He was suddenly glad that his partner had talked him into staking out the Whitman house, because they had found something that none of the other agents had.   
  
“I guess we finally found out who that Isabel was that he had wrote about in all those diary entries,” The tall man said a moment later, breaking their victorious silence. “What are we going to do now?” he asked his partner, turning toward him with a curious smile. He was nervous. Just because they had found something valuable didn't mean that he knew what to do with it.   
  
“There’s a law practice in town, isn't there?” CIA agent, Jesse Andrew Rivas asked. “Run by a Phil Evans, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Agent Connor Price said, raising his eyebrow before his eyes widened in shock. He grabbed the picture from his partner’s hand. “This can’t be the Isabel Evans that Liz Parker is always seen hanging around with, can it? It can’t be this easy,” Conner said, realization dawning on him. It was right in his face the entire time…   
  
“Who else would be at the Whitman’s house besides someone he knew, who had known Liz,” Jesse said seriously, shrugging his shoulder. He didn't sound as shocked as Connor was… He probably already had made the connection long ago. Jesse was a good damn detective and had to be patient with Connor’s natural slowness. He seemed to know that didn't make Connor any less of a good agent or partner… He just needed a little guidance sometimes.   
  
“Do you think that I would make a good lawyer?” Jesse’s rough Latino voice asked out of nowhere, making Connor very confused. A lawyer? What the hell did that have to do…?  
  
“What does that have to do with anything?” Connor asked, a little pissed off. If Jesse was trying to jerk him around, make fun of him, he was going to punch him right in the balls.   
  
“Because I always did want to be a lawyer,” Jesse answered wistfully, pulling out his disposable phone from his back pants pocket and dialing a number. The call was answered a few minutes later.   
  
“Hello, this is Jesse Ramirez…” Jesse said, smiling wickedly at Connor. “I’m a lawyer and I wanted to inquire about a job at your law firm.”   
  
  
_**TBC...**_  
  



	15. Chapter 15

It was raining heavily. He was drenched in it from head to toe. He shook his head, feeling a crippling sense of déjà vu. It was like his last night in Roswell all over again…The roads were slicked with rain drops and mud… and blood. His hands were covered in so much blood; he was almost swimming in it. He felt like vomiting. He could still hear the gunshot ringing in his head as he clenched the gun tighter to him. He looked at his hands again before turning back to the two bodies lying in from of him; one was mangled, his once lean limbs looking like a half-full roll tube of toothpaste. His automatic lay not far from him, broken in half… He had almost died picking it up, thinking that it still worked. The first body had been hit by a car… by his car… before it had stalled and he had been forced to climb out and face man number two.  
  
He looked behind him and stared. Man number two wasn't as mangled as the other, his arms and legs looked as bulky as they had when he had first spotted the two men parked next to the ‘Welcome to the Kansas state line’ sign hanging from a old wooden post at the state line. His mind had immediately filled with panic. He was being ambushed… They had found him, but he didn't know how. He had been careful. He was always changing routes and cars in almost each state or city that he passed through… he never lingered in any state for too long and, if he had to, he would hitchhike into the next town if he couldn't find a decent car or bike to steal. But it had all been for nothing if they had found him. ‘If',he thought, disgusted. There was no‘if’. They’d found him and they were there to kill him.   
  
  
He couldn't remember much of what had happened next except slamming his foot onto the gas pedal and their matching expressions of surprise. He could vaguely remember how the car had bounced as it rolled over the body of the first man and his shriek of pain and surprise being cut off by the end. He remembered fruitlessly trying to turn the key over and over again, only to get a loud cranking noise in return, before there was nothing at all but the loud and angry footstep of man number two. He hadn't thought as he pushed the slightly dented door open and began crawling to man number one, hoping that the man had had a gun or a knife or something on him. He could vaguely remember hearing a shotgun blast only inches away from his head before he finally abandoned the dead and mangled body of man number one and remembered that there was an unregistered gun hidden away in the glove compartment of the car he had stolen back in Oregon.   
  
He fumbled with the door handle as he heard another gun blast a few inches from his right hip, but he wasn't so lucky this time around and the bullet painfully grazed him. He howled in pain, holding his bleeding side, as his new found pain and adrenalin boosted him. He yanked the door almost clean off its metal hinges in his haste to open it and climb back inside the car as the footsteps grew louder. He found it hard to maneuver in the small space of the car, especially since he didn't have both of his hands to snake him along, but he was finally reached the glove compartment on the passenger side and, with his bloody, shaking hands, he popped it open and grabbed the gun.   
  
He slowly and carefully pulled open the chamber that contained the bullets… he found that only one was locked snugly in there. He cursed, violently and loudly. He couldn't make any mistakes… he only had one shot.  
  
“Come out here, you fucking coward!” Man number two yelled loudly, startling him. “Let me shoot you like a man!” He snapped the bullet chamber back in place and pointed in the direction of the stomping footsteps and the half-hanging door. He felt his eyes snapping shut, his face scrunching together in fear. He willed—no, yelled at himself— to open his eyes, but he couldn't. It was like his own involuntary defense system… if he didn't see it… then maybe it wasn't real.   
  
He didn't remember much after that… another way of protecting himself, he guessed. He remembered hearing a few more gunshots being fired. When he settled down a few hours later in a dingy motel room, he’ll realize that he was hit twice in the leg and once in the arm before his only bullet in the crossfire found its target and the guy dropped with a loud, bloody smack onto the heavily slicked pavement of the back highway. His eyes had closed tighter, to the point of pain, as he willed the man to die.  
  
Instead the cold voice that still haunted him spoke in a rough German accent, loudly crackling over the heavy rain drops, “They’re going to kill you, my friend.” He said it proudly… manically. His hand scratched against the watery pavement, his breath coming out in jagged and hollow gasps. “And when they do… you’re going to wish that you had allowed me to put a bullet through your idiot skull.” The man laughed wetly then, the blood coming out of his mouth in streams, pooling around his lips. He realized that he was choking on his own blood. In his last moments, he added, “They won’t show you or your friends any mercy,” He gasped, smiling cruelly. “Run home and protect your little alien friends while you still can.” He croaked, laughing until the air and life finally left his body….  
  
Alex’s lean and newly damaged body bolted upward in his makeshift pile of soft pillows and blankets that he had made on the floor of Frank’s small town house, sweat dripped down his face onto his panting lips, the afternoon sun blinding his watering, sensitive eyes. The once comforting blankets began to wrap fully around him, making him feel small and suffocated… and in that moment, he concluded that the man was right. Maybe it would have been an act of mercy if he had just died on that rain slicked highway just two weeks ago.   
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Groaning, Kyle woke up with a massive hangover and the afternoon sun blazing right into his bloodshot eyes... but most importantly of all, he woke up alone. No one was holding his hand anymore and the couch next to him was empty of Tess’ presence. He felt like swearing, profusely and loudly, but he settled instead for rubbing the sleep out of his pissed off face.   
  
He didn't know why he was so angry about waking up alone… he just was. It felt like a moment, a truce… a connection had been broken by Tess’ abandonment. He had felt that they had an understanding of each other that he thought had been lost between them forever when Alex died… It felt like a part of Tess that he thought had died along with Alex had been rediscovered, unwrapped just for him, as she had held his hand, whispering sweetly and soothingly as his mind had become blank in his drunkenness.   
  
He didn't know how to explain it… but it felt like he wasn't so broken and alone anymore. It felt like love, in its simplest and pure form that he could understand and wrap his mind around. He had truly and unconditionally loved her in that moment and he had wanted nothing from her in return but her warmth… and waking up alone had somehow altered that. It felt less real… like a drunken haze of illusion or a dream that he would never be able to really remember right again. Maybe it was the jolt he had gotten from the human contact, maybe it had been the sound of another voice in his head besides his own thoughts, or maybe it had been that his guard lowered by the booze had made him more open to the warmth and love that she had been offering, but whichever one it was or a combination of it, he felt the loss of it greatly.  
  
It was like a slow, burning ache in his chest right over his heart that caused his eyes to become misty with misery and pain… and he hated Tess for making him feel this way. He wanted to hate himself for allowing it to bloom and grow there in the first place and, as the last of the booze and sleep left his body, as the sun poured soft colors of yellow, pink, and orange into the small living room, he found himself wishing that he hadn't finished the last of the Jack Daniels before passing out.   
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Max flung the patio door of his parent’s house open, closing it lightly behind him with a click. He took off his dust crusted dress boots and left both of them by the patio door neatly side by side—the way his mother liked them. He didn't want to disturb anyone who was home by clunking around the kitchen and leaving desert dirt everywhere.   
  
He peeled off his suit jacket and hung it loosely on the back of one of kitchen chairs, tossing his car keys into the big green glass bowl that his mother left on the kitchen counter solely for the purpose of minimizing the amount of lost keys around the house.   
  
He sighed and unbuttoned the cuffs of his white long-sleeved shirt; he walked over to the fridge and opened it. He was hungry and unbelievably tired. He had never known that he could be so mentally and physically exhausted in his entire life. It felt like the life had been sucked right out of him and thrown into space somewhere… like he was seconds away from dropping dead. He just wanted to eat something quickly and go to bed.  
  
“So, you’re home now?” his dad’s rough voice shot through the air, startling him.   
  
Max jumped and slammed the refrigerator door, holding his chest. “Dad…” he breathed, a little annoyed. “You scared me.”   
  
“I was hoping I did,” His father said, giving him a hard stare. “Where have you been?” he asked, his hard voice barely able to contain his anger and disappointment.   
  
Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was too tired for this bullshit and he already felt ashamed enough. “I was around,” Max replied vaguely, hoping that was enough. If he had to, he would lie and say that he had slept at Michael’s place and had forgotten to call, but he was hoping that he wouldn't have to. He hated lying to his parents.   
  
His father’s right eyebrow arched. “Wrong answer,” he said coldly. Max could feel the disappointment radiating off him and it made him want to vomit. “You wanna try again?”   
  
Max shook his head.   
  
“Max,” His father began gruffly. “Your mother was up half the night worried sick about you and your sister…”  
  
Max rolled his eyes, tuning him out. He didn't need a lecture right now. He had gotten the message already. He was a terrible son… he was a terrible human being. He needed to do better. He needed to be better… and he didn't need his father telling him that too. Weren't a bruised face, ego, and the constant, unnerving feeling of wanting to dig a hole and bury himself in it punishment enough?  
  
“Why don’t you save the ‘I’m-so-disappointed- in-my-son’ talk for some other day, huh, Dad?” Max cut in, hotly. He ignored his dad’s indignant expression and reopened the refrigerator door only for it to slam close again, bruising his finger tips. Max hissed in pain and turned to his father with barely contained rage. Max felt his body tense, his senses heightened. He felt like a caged animal, he was ready to fight… he was about to fight his own father.   
  
Max could see that his father’s face was red with anger; his body was almost shaking with it. “If you ever talk to me like that again,” he paused, huffing. “I will deck you, do you understand?” His father finished, his threat echoing in the large kitchen.   
  
Everything turned up about ten notches, the silence and rage lingering between them suddenly seemed so loud, deafening. The kitchen suddenly felt small, like the walls were closing in on him, ready to cave him in on his own guilt and rage. He began to hyperventilate as wild smells began to fill his nose, trying to cloud his mind. He could feel the vibrations bouncing off the walls and crashing into him. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight.   
  
“Whatever,” Max grunted out. He backed away from his father’s crumbling face, the guilt beginning to show in his wrinkles. He wanted to tell him that it was okay, that it was his fault… but he couldn't. He just couldn't handle it… He wanted to run. He needed to go somewhere and clear his head. He had almost punched his own father. What was happening to him? What was happening?!? He didn't even recognize himself anymore. He couldn't even tell who the frightened, angry teenage boy was that he briefly caught in the reflection of his father’s sad eyes.   
  
He needed to go. He had to. “I’m gonna go,” He said suddenly, breaking the growing guilt that was stamped across his father’s face. He violently fished the keys out of the green bowl and grabbed his jacket off the chair in a rush. “I’ll be back.” He pulled his jacket on with a violent jerk.   
  
“Max! Max… come back!” He could hear his father yelling as he yanked the patio door open and ran out. His father’s voice was hazy to his ears, a million miles away. He wanted to turn around, apologize, and be the adult that he knew could be… but he couldn't. He wanted to be a little kid, running away from his problems. He wanted to punch things and brood in peace. He wanted to be reasonable… He wanted a lot of things that he couldn't have or hope to accomplish.   
  
He slammed the door to his jeep and revved out of the driveway with the buzzing of his father yelling his name over and over again ringing in his ears. It wasn't until he was a mile away from his home that he realized he had forgotten to put his shoes back on.   
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Michael felt his vision beginning to blur; the words that he was reading began to wave in and out. He felt his eyes water with forced concentration, his head pleading with him to stop and take a break, but he pushed on and continued to scan the Crashdown menu again.  
  
It was unnecessary punishment, of course. He knew the Crashdown menu by heart now especially since he spent the better part of two years cooking almost everything on the goddamn menu but he couldn't will himself to stop. He feared that if he did stop and put down the menu that Maria would have an excuse to finally kick him out.   
  
The bell above the glass doors of the Crashdown dinged, signaling new customers. They were an elderly couple who were regulars. They were so old, in fact, that they had been residents of Roswell during the summer of the crash… the summer that he had landed on earth… and Maria absolutely adored them.   
  
He could already feel himself rolling his eyes fondly. He could hear her gushing over them in his head—Oh, how cute! Look, Michael, they’re holding hands! Or Freddie calls Cassie ‘Dumpling’… Hey, Michael… how come we don’t have cute pet names for each other?—He actually shook his head in exasperation at the memory. There had been an agonizingly, embarrassingly long month where she had called him Baby-doll or Sweetie pie instead of the begrudgingly approved Space boy whenever she could… She had only stopped doing so when he had complained so loudly that a few of the customers visiting the Crashdown that day had given him weird, disapproving looks, openly pitying her. They had gone so far as to give her bigger tips. Maria had complained for a week straight about it, grumbling about not wanting anyone’s pity money. She had given Liz most of her tips that night.   
  
Michael peeked over the edges of the menu and saw that Maria didn't give the smiley couple her usual wit, nor did she gush over them. Instead she did something that shocked him… she gave the couple over to Agnes and apologized profusely, saying she would not have been good company and that they deserved the best service a waitress could offer.   
  
He raised an eyebrow, stunned. It wasn't like Maria to just run away from something because it was too hard… She hadn’t run away when Pierce was out to get them, even though he had spent the two days that Max had been kidnapped and the better part of their Junior year pushing her away and giving her the cold shoulder. She had been stubborn and had refused to leave… She had stayed and faced the danger her life had become head on.   
  
So what had changed? Why was she running now… especially when she needed him the most? He just couldn't understand, it stumped him, vexed him. It just wasn't in her nature to turn away when someone needed her the most… and despite all of his reservations, he did need her… but she was running, avoiding his calls and ignoring his presence at the booth where he had been sitting for the last hour. She was running away from that couple’s happiness… and she was running away from theirs. It was starting to piss him off.   
  
He was so deep in thought that he hadn't realized that he had been staring until Maria snatched the menu out of his hands, dropping it onto the marbled tabletop with a plop. She was glaring at him… and he decided to glare back.   
  
“That’s a real interesting way to treat a paying customer… Maybe I should call Jeff over here and complain?” He asked bitterly, not realizing just how mad he was at her. He guessed he was able to keep his simmering anger in check from a distance but up close, with Maria only inches away from him… being able to smell her invigorating body wash and jasmine flowing off her hair in intoxicating wave, knowing he wasn't able to get close to her and touch her… to take it all in and not be able to put his hands in her hair and kiss her silly was sending the hormones that were normally reserved for his libido right to his head.   
  
She snorted, still scowling. “You've been sitting there for the past hour and half… you haven’t bought anything and you’re not scheduled to work today,” she spat, venom lacing her every word. “So are you going to order anything or just take up valuable space?” Maria asked, her arms folded over her chest. He narrowed his eyes, fuming.   
  
“Did you take your bitch pill today, Maria?” He retorted slowly, playing with the edges of her apron. “We all know that human beings can’t stand to be around you when you don’t,” he finished angrily.   
  
Both of them struggled to resist the urge to flip the other off. Maria looked like she was getting ready to slap him across the face and, for a minute, he thought she really would.   
  
“Michael,” she sighed instead, sounding deflated. Everything in her body just slumped down, all the fight leaving her body, and she looked as though she was on the verge of tears. He felt like punching himself in the face for being a dick and had to resist the urge to get up and hug her.  
  
“Why are you here?” she asked, dejected. He sighed, continuing to play with the fabric of her uniform, avoiding her questioning stare. He didn't know why he was there. He knew that she didn't want him around and, quite frankly, he didn't want to be around her…   
  
The rage that he suddenly felt toward her was suffocating and he hated hating her. He felt like he was placing the blame on her when it was really his fault. He should have been a better boyfriend; he should have stayed at Alex’s and comforted her instead of taking the easy exit. Lord sure knew that she never did… but he hadn't been able to stop himself from leaving that day any more than he could have avoided going to the Crashdown. He hadn't even realized that he had been heading there until he was right outside the door.   
  
He shrugged his shoulders, his fingers becoming bolder as they latched on the outline of her hip. He swirled his thumb in a pattern on her hip bone, drinking in the warmth of her fabric… of her. “I thought maybe you had gotten some sleep and were thinking clearly… that you would come running into my arms and apologize to me for breaking up with me,” he quipped, unable to stop himself.   
  
“I’m not,” she said so plainly that it made him flinch and his thumb stalled before making circles again. “I meant what I said,” she said more softly, pulling his hand away from her uniform and she held it... for the briefest of moments… and he returned the hold tightly… before she slowly lowered it back onto the booth’s tabletop.   
  
“I know you did,” he whispered, a sad smile crossing his lips. “You never say anything that you don’t mean.” And for the first time in all the time he had known her, he wished that he was wrong… that she didn’t mean what she had said. He wished that his off-hand joke would be the reality and they would go home, holding each other until the sun set and she would have to head home… But he could tell by the hard determination shining in her eyes that this was going to be their reality… that they were really over.   
  
“Do you want me to walk you home after your shift?” he asked a moment later. He could hear the desperate hope in his voice; he wanted to curse himself for it.  
  
She shook her head. “No,” she replied shyly, a tear falling down her cheek. “I’m okay.” She paused, letting more tears stream down her face. “I’m gonna be okay, Michael… Go home.” Her tone left no room for argument. Her delicate voice had spoken so firmly and unyieldingly that he felt like a beautifully bound book was closing on the last page of their hard earned story and he was helpless to stop it… He was powerless against the power of her voice and all he could think to do was to heed her advice and make the slow, painful trek back home without her.   
  
  
_**TBC....**_


	16. Chapter 16

“Can I get you any lemonade, sweetheart?”  
  
Isabel shook her head, rubbing her hands.  
  
“No… that’s okay,” she said, shaking. She could feel her hands throbbing painfully, almost in time with her rapidly beating heart. She was going to have to clean up her mother’s car, she thought with detached sense of rationalism. She almost sighed aloud. She hated herself for the beating that she had inflicted on her mother’s car…  
  
“I’m not thirsty.” She lied. Her mouth was actually extremely dry from all the yelling she had done in her mother’s car before she had decided to finally ring the doorbell to the Whitman’s… but she didn't think that she could even hold a glass without her hands shaking even worse than they already were … Plus, she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of Alex’s mom.  
  
Mrs. Whitman just nodded her head in response.  
  
Isabel closed her eyes, trying to fight the urge to run to the bathroom and vomit. She had long ago passed the hyperventilating stage of her breakdown and was having a full on panic attack. She was scared… She still felt like screaming her fucking head off and the sheer force of will not to look like a maniac in front of Alex’s mom was the only thing keeping her sane…. Trying to stay sane was starting to wear her down, day by day…. She was beginning to lose herself in her own insanity until there would be nothing left but the person she used to be… and the person that she could have been.  
  
“Are you moving?” she asked, looking at the half packed boxes in the far corner of the Whitman’s’ pristine living room. She admired that… the oddly clean living space. It made her able to breathe easier. She’d rather breathe in the faint smell of Windex intermixed with furniture polish than Alex.   
  
Mrs. Whitman sent her a small smile at her question.  
  
“We think its best,” she replied softly. “It’s just… everywhere we go, Alex…” she trailed off, her voice breaking.   
  
Isabel sighed… She didn't need her to finish. Isabel knew exactly what she meant. She couldn't seem to escape Alex’s presence either.  
  
“Where you going?” Isabel felt like rolling her eyes. She was making small talk… She hated it when other people made small talk and now she was doing it too. She would have slapped herself if she thought she could get away with it.   
  
But Mrs. Whitman didn't seem annoyed by her awkward attempts at trying to keep their meeting sociable… She actually seemed happy that Isabel wanted to talk about Alex even less than she did. Isabel could tell that Alex’s mom was a lot like her… They both wanted to pretend for as long as they could.   
  
“Charlie got a job to work on software programs for some big company in Texas,” Mrs. Whitman said loftily. There was a hint of wifely pride in her voice… or was it relief? “We’re leaving next week.” She finished, a sober tone to her voice.  
  
Then she added, “There are some things in Alex’s room that we haven’t packed up yet… You can go up there, if you want…” Mrs. Whitman’s voice was starting to break apart, but she went on. “I’m sure… there’s something up there that’s important to you that I might have missed.”   
  
Isabel nodded her head. She didn’t know what there was to say … She didn’t know what to do. She was speechless due to the large, growing lump in her throat. She wanted to say a million things... She could feel the words forming in her head, ready to escape her mouth. Isabel wanted to thank Mrs. Whitman for every day that she got to spend with her amazing son. She wanted to cry on his mother’s shoulder and babble incoherently until the pain engulfing her heart went away … She wanted to be angry—to yell and scream that it was all her fault… that she should have taken better care of him. She wanted to curse her for the day she ever gave birth to Alex Charles Whitman…   
  
But she said none of these things because she couldn’t. Because every time she felt she was close to saying something… whether something meaningful or something hateful… the words would die in her mouth and clump up, forming a ball in the pit of her stomach. One day it might explode… but not today; today she couldn’t say anything. All she could do was breathe, smile politely, and walk down the hall to Alex’s room.  
  
“Isabel?” Mrs. Whitman said softly, giving her a bittersweet look. “Alex came to me the night of the prom and asked me something.” Isabel raised her eyebrow. “He asked me how I would feel about having you as my daughter-in-law. Do you know what I said?”  
  
Isabel shook her head.   
  
“I told him that I would like that very much.”  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
“Did you sleep well, boy?”  
  
Alex nodded his head and continued to eat his cereal. He wasn’t in the mood to talk. Frank nodded and dropped into the seat next to him, the smell of a steaming batch of coffee wafting up in the air and filling his nostrils. Alex sighed as Frank pushed the pot closer and tapped the cover… his way of asking if he wanted any. Alex shook his head and went back to eating.   
  
“Do you want to take a ride with me?” Frank asked after a few moments of silence had passed between them. Alex was on his second bowl of cocoa puffs and Frank was on his third cup of coffee when he had asked. “I have to go into the next town and pick up some supplies for the store and I don’t like to do it alone.” Frank sipped his coffee, waiting for Alex’s answer.  
  
“Sure… Why not?” Alex said softly, rubbing his forehead with hand he had his spoon in. “Nothing better to do.”  
  
“Great.” Frank replied, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “We’re leaving in a few minutes.”  
  
Alex just nodded his head and went back to chewing the last of his cereal.  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Tess had been driving in a state of total disarray ever since she had woken up earlier that morning, never stopping to look where she was going or resting when her vision began to blur. She could have left Roswell long ago for all she knew; she didn’t care. She just pushed her foot further onto the gas pedal of Kyle’s car and drove and drove.   
  
She didn’t know what else to do with herself; she felt utterly useless. She was lost and alone and waking up with Kyle’s hand in her own had only worsened the feeling of total solitude. She couldn’t feel the warmth of his hand as it had engulfed her or hear the rat-tat-tat of his beating heart as she always had… And in that moment she realized that she couldn’t feel anything… and that she didn’t want to listen anymore. She was numb to her very core… and disposable. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized just how interchangeable she really was. She wasn’t wanted or needed and she wasn’t strong enough to make herself be either of those things. She couldn’t save anybody… not even herself. Not anymore. Honestly, she wasn’t sure that she ever could.  
  
Tess felt herself begin to hyperventilate, all of her sins weighing down upon her until she felt like she was going to pass out at the wheel. How had everything gotten to this point?! She heard herself screaming desperately in her mind. To the point where she couldn't even stand herself anymore?  
  
She slowed down, parking the car over on the side of the road. She needed to breathe and calm down. Now wasn’t the time to break apart… not when there was work that needed to be done. Alex was relying on her to get the job done.  
  
She swallowed a sigh and cut the engine when she saw Max leaning against his jeep right outside of the entrance of the planetarium... exactly where he had said he would be waiting for her.  
  
Sighing audibly, she opened the door with a rough push and jumped out of the car. Before she could even close the door behind her, Max had snuck up behind her, spinning her around, and then kissing her deeply and passionately.  
  
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-  
  
Max rubbed the edge of key chain that was still dangling from his right hand that had cupped Tess’ face. Its smooth surface calmed his rapidly beating heart. It calmed the voice that screamed in his head that he was making a mistake… that there was still time to walk away… but he ignored it as he told himself to calm down and breathe. That it was just Tess… Tess… the girl who had been there for him ever since all of the crazy bullshit had happened… who made him feel less guilty about not being able to save Alex. She made him feel nothing. She didn’t even make him feel like himself, which was a welcome distraction that he readily took advantage of.   
  
He pushed her against the driver side door and it slammed shut under their combined weight as he continued to kiss her harshly. He kissed her with all burning rage and stifling sadness that seemed to constantly invade his heart… and the soul crushing loneliness he had been shoving into the deepest and darkest part of his being ever since he heard the Sheriff say that Alex was dead. He didn’t hold anything back and neither did Tess.  
  
She responded to his assault with equal brutality, biting and marking him like it was her right. And he let her… because it felt good to pretend for awhile. It felt good to be needed… wanted… even if it was for their own selfish reasons. Max knew that their session was not personal… he thought that any guy could have been there, making Tess feel better, but it wasn’t… It was him and that made him feel important that he was being of use to somebody.  
  
He deepened the kiss, their teeth knocking together with so much force that he wouldn’t be surprised if they had a few clipped teeth here and there. She moaned against his mouth, loudly and wantonly. Her sounds of passion and encouragement made Max feel powerful and bold as he slowly inched his fingers closer to unzip Tess’ jeans buttons and find their way under the edge of her panties. He began to receive flashes from Tess when his fingers got closer to her folds… and all of them were of him… and it brought him comfort and chased any further doubts away. Being intimate with her was certainly an experience he had not been prepared for… He had no barriers to put up against the mad rush of lust and need that she made him feel… But she wasn’t Liz.  
  
Max felt Tess’ hand on the edges of his dress pants; he felt her hand slide down his zipper with a hard jerk and in that moment he knew where they were going. He was going to lose his virginity to Tess and he couldn’t help but think that Liz should be there instead of Tess… that everything they were about to do was wrong. Something he was going to regret.  
  
He shook his head and grunted, pushing the thought away. Liz had no place there between the two of them… not when they were like this, hot all over and aching for something that the other was desperate to give and even more desperate to receive… Liz couldn’t fit there in his mind as Tess made him feel like the most wanted person alive.  
  
As Tess began to stroke him violently, making him breathe heavily and see stars dance across his tightly shut eyes, Liz still invaded his mind. She was there the entire time they made love… if he was bold enough to even call it that. He was aware of her smile, her laugh, and the way she always played with her hair when something stumped her. She was there through it all and he knew that Tess knew it too… Even after Tess came so hard that she spilled him over the edge too, and even when they broke apart, lying so far away from each other that the other seemed like they were million miles away instead of five feet, he still couldn’t help but think that Tess had never been more beautiful than she had been in that moment.  
  


 _ **TBC...**_.


	17. Chapter 17

Silence. That was all there was surrounding them now. The stifling quiet air that circled them, icing through his bones, threatening to suffocate and break him along the edges with the overwhelming sting of shame and bitterness that he could taste in the back of his throat, filling up his tongue, and tearing Max up from the inside out with its acid.   
  
Oh, God, what have I done? Max blinked against the noon sun beating down across his bare chest as he struggled to pull his boxers back up his legs with shaking hands. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, smudging some of the dirt from the ground parking lot across his brow.Dear God, forgive me. Forgive me for what I’ve done, he thought with a choked sob. His breathing was heavy from all the emotions he was trying to bottleneck within himself.   
  
He had taken advantage of Tess and her kindness, and used her comfort against her, turning it into something she had not truly given consent to. He had taken what he wanted without giving anything back in return, and a part of him felt no remorse for it… for his blatant disregard for anyone else’s pleasures but his own. Sure, he felt disgusted with himself for his actions, ashamed of how far he had fallen into the abyss of self-gratification and callousness… treating people like his own personal playground. He knew better than to treat people as though they were things... only worth trampling on and using up until there was nothing left to do but to throw it away or burn it all to the ground. It shocked him to realize that he didn't much care.  
  
What would Liz think of him now? If she could truly see the person that he’d become? If she could see just how much he liked hurting people, knowing that a part of Tess was just as ashamed and embarrassed… and reveling in the fact that he was the one to cause that. He was beginning to become what he’d always feared he would… a cold, heartless alien. Liz had been right. Alex’s death, the divide between humans and aliens… and the vicious war brewing between them all…were all just the tip of the iceberg of the destruction that he—and all his kind—were about to cause.   
  
He breathed, stuffing that all down into the back of his mind. He could bend and break later. He needed to keep it together now. He couldn't break down in front of Tess, not for minute… not when she needed him to be strong…. Not when he needed himself to be strong… He was Max Evans, the master of control and logic. He was a king, a God… the one known for his rationality, for his ability to always keep a cold, level head when it seemed that the world was crumbling and buckling underneath them. And, as like with all kings, there was no room for weakness… not when everybody was relying on him to know all the answers… to be the rightful king… He wasn't about to give anybody the ammo to expose just how vulnerable and lost Max Evans really was. He had made that mistake once before with Liz… and he just couldn't afford to make that mistake again. He couldn't let anyone else in… His heart couldn't take being broken a second time. He had lost far too much to willingly break down and roll over. He had to find a way to deal with the situation that was in front of him… the situation that he had just gotten Tess and himself into.  
  
He could feel the pull of his past with Tess and a small piece of him would always be linked to her… would always remember being her husband… But he wasn't in love with her…  
  
Love was all-consuming in a way that left no room for anything else except the object of your obsession… the way he loved Liz. He could never love anyone like he loved her. Liz Parker would always be his first love… his only love. But Tess had stronger memories of their former selves… and she loved him the way he loved Liz. Max had known it and he had taken that deeply rooted devotion and run with it to abate his guilt over what had happened between him and his father.   
  
He wanted to prove to Liz that he didn't need her love or approval to survive. Liz could abandon him, leave him alone to choke on the dusty memories of the love that had once been between them and it wouldn't matter because he had Tess… and Tess would never leave him. Max had used that devotion against her to make himself feel important for just a little while.   
  
When did he go from caring about everyone, to only caring about himself…? When did he begin needing someone other than himself in order to feel human?  
  
“Are you okay?” Tess asked quietly against the soothing wind, breaking Max from his internal chaos. The afternoon wind breezed through the abandoned parking lot of the planetarium, making strands of her hair touch the bottom of her lips… the same lips that he had kissed so passionately only a few hours ago.   
  
Max smiled blandly as he tried to wordlessly reassure her, but his smile was too weak. His breathing was shaky and erratic and he began to hyperventilate as images of what they had done passed through his head, like a bad porno on repeat.   
  
“Max, are you okay…?” Tess asked again, sounding a million miles away to Max’s ears. Her voice was like white noise to him, background music that Max wanted to shut off. He shook his head. It was suddenly too hot being next to her. He felt caged and smothered by her presence. Fair or not, he felt bitter toward her for the reminder of what he had done… at what he had become. He wanted out. He wanted to get away… and he wanted to get away right now.   
  
He could do it, disappear into the sunset, never to be heard from again… It wasn't like anyone would truly miss him while he was gone. Liz sure wouldn't; he couldn't really blame her for not mourning his absence… why would she after all the things he’d done, all the pains he’d caused her? It wasn't like his presence or his love had made her life a bed of roses since that fateful day in the Crashdown.  
  
Oh, that day had served him well, of course… to have all his dreams come true, to finally have a reason to be close to her. He could be near her without fearing that she would one day be able to see through the stone wall that he, Isabel, and Michael had built around themselves from the moment that they had truly realized what they actually were. Max finally had a tangible possibility of obtaining what he had dreamed about since third grade: a relationship with Liz Parker. His dream had matured with him as he longed for her to know and love the real him. He could have all of her, just as she could have all of him— with nothing to hide and no secrets. But, like most things, the bubble had popped and reality came crashing through. It had been too good to be true, because it turned out that they had both been hiding things from each other after all.  
  
“Max…” Tess whispered, squeezing his shoulder blade and leaning into his space so closely that he could smell her perfume all over again. She was so nice, like morning dew and fire wood… and that made him breathe a little faster. “I think you’re having a panic attack…” She said, her voice high enough to break through the static in his brain.   
  
He tried to speak, to reassure her that he was fine… to tell her to stop worrying about him. That was his job… He was the only one in their group who was supposed to worry… but the words died in his throat immediately. His common sense was replaced by the raw, gritty feeling of the loud tear inside his chest. He could swear that sound was his heart ripping in two. No, wait… It was him… he was making that noise. He was crying. It was not his heart… and somehow that made it all so much worse.   
  
“Here, lie down and put your hands on the ground in front of you.” Tess instructed, gently trying to push him onto the ground and onto his stomach. “I’m going to lie on top of you. I want you to breathe with me, okay?” He nodded his head, barely able to comprehend what she had said over the increasingly violent grasps and heaves of air coming from his dry throat.   
  
Max had no choice but to trust that she knew what she was doing. He nodded again as he fell forward into the ground beneath him, banging his head against the concert and gripping the cool grass of the dirt patch that hadn't been too far away from where Tess had parked her car. He bit his tongue, his fingernails scraping against the dirt pile as his vision turned red hot and searing as blood streamed against his closed eyelids. The pain in his head and lungs encompassed him, sucking the life right out of him.   
  
Tess slid across him, her naked chest against his bare back, her arms enveloping his, hugging him close to her as the tips of her toes creased his legs. His body felt cold compared to hers, the body heat radiating off her sent shivers down his spine. He welcomed the feeling of being held by someone, covered from head to toe in somebody else’s limbs besides his own. It’d been so long since he allowed himself to be comforted by anything other than the relief of knowing that he and his friends had survived danger and lived to see another day.   
  
It felt nice to feel something real and tangible… to feel something that he hadn't known he’d been missing. For the first time since she had arrived in Roswell, Max accepted Tess’ presence in to his life. In that moment, he welcomed everything that she wanted to give to him and more.   
  
Tess laid her head into the crevice of his neck, her own salty tears running down her face and onto his pinched face as her fingers carded through his hair, the blood and dirt clumping together into his brown hair. “Shh,” she whispered, her voice small and broken. “It’s okay…” Tess promised, her hot breath blowing against his clammy neck, making him shiver again. She started rubbing circles softly around his back as she continued to whisper soothing things into his ear, “Everything’s going to be okay. It will be over soon… This will be over soon… I promise…” she said determinedly, and he had a sinking feeling that she was talking about more than just his panic attack. Her words began to crack and slur together as she tried to choke back against the building of her own sobs. Her sweet words died in her throat as she began to break down heavily.   
  
He twisted one of his hands out from under her arm and searched blindly for her, trying to offer the same comfort she was giving him. He finally gripped the hand closest to him, pulling it tightly to his chest and anchoring himself to her, rubbing patterns into the skin of her hand. Her warmth once again felt like a lifeline to his fried senses and he had an overwhelming sense of belonging to someone again.  
  
He was a step away from finally having his recent sins cast away into the evening breeze until there was nothing left for him to carry around on his shoulders anymore. There was no need for the art of pretending between either of them, of having to force a smile onto their faces to hide the fact that they were both broken toys that were being held together by scotch tape and super glue, ready to fall apart at any moment and deemed unusable… beyond repair… only to be discarded along with the rest of the trash where they both belonged.   
  
With everyone else, even Liz, he had to pretend that he had everything together… that he knew all the answers that held everything together. He always had someone looking to him to fix what was broken within them, while ignoring what was broken within himself. He guessed it was the same way for Tess too… she always had to pretend around the others, having to make the others believe that she wasn’t hurt by their rejection…that she fit within the group without reservations… knowing that they could probably care less about her.   
  
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his voice muffled by the ground as he chanted the words over and over again. With each word his grip on her hand became stronger and he could feel the blood leaving her fingertips as his own sobs came back full force. Apologizes kept slipping from his mouth. He apologized for everything that he’d done to her, for any part that he’d played in the facade that she had been forced her to build around herself to survive… He apologized for the blood, the tears, and the parking lot quickie that had meant nothing and that he wished had meant everything… Most of all, he apologized for having nothing left in himself to offer in return for her understanding, her comfort, and her trust…   
  
He wished that he had met her in his prime, in the days when he had everything to give and nothing to lose. He liked to have been the man that she had hoped he would be… If only he could turn back time and welcome her with open arms and without a wary and suspicious heart so she would never have been forced to be someone else but herself. He wished that he could be someone else… someone happier.   
  
  
_**TBC...**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter for now. i hope to be back at it soon, but don't hold me to it.

Isabel was nervous. She had only been up to Alex’s room once before… the day before prom. She had snuck up to his window, her palms sweaty as she knocked softly on the glass window, her hair in loose curls winding down to the small of her back, and her heart beating a mile a minute, threatening to jump into her throat and out her mouth. The minutes ticked by into what felt like eons as she twirled her hair around her finger, messing with the hem of her beige leather jacket, trying to look perfect and irresistible for him as she waited for Alex to open up the window and let her in.  
  
It was silly—almost bordering on a morbidly funny tone now that she had time to think back on it—but she had been deathly afraid of being rejected by him again…of feeling her heart shatter once more at the thought of not being able to go to prom with the one man she had secretly hoped would take her since sophomore year. She had feared that there were no more second chances, no more chasing or pleading left for either of them. It had been now or never. She had to win him back… or she would lose him forever… and that possibility had simply not been an option.  
  
Isabel scoffed to herself, a bitter laugh wanting to pass her lips. If only she knew then what she knew now, huh? Oh, God, wouldn't she give anything to feel even a fraction of what she had felt then… to be able to feel that now, to be that naïve again? Isabel would kill to desperately believe again that waiting outside a one-story window pane and fear being rejected twice in one day was what true pain must have felt like. God, would she give up all that she owned to believe that being told ‘No’ was the worst thing that could ever happen to her… for that to be the only thing that she was truly afraid of.  
  
Maybe Max had been right when he told Liz, that she, too, should give up on chasing ghosts before she lost her damn mind living in what could have been… of what had once been. She should learn along with Liz that there really was no amount of superficial pleading in the world that could change the sorrow that was slowly building in all their hearts. Isabel’s worst fear had come true… She had lost Alex forever to the one thing that even an alien hybrid like her had no magic wand to wave over… Death.  
  
Isabel started a little as she heard the door leading into Alex’s room swing open slowly in the afternoon breeze, almost like it was deliberately trying to torture her with what she might find on the other side of the door… but it was useless torture.  
  
Isabel knew exactly what she would find behind that slowly opening door… She wouldn’t find a damn thing… nothing at all. Alex was gone and, it was foolish of her to wish for anything different. He was buried underneath six feet of dirt at the Roswell Cemetery… and that was where he would remain for all of eternity. She might as well accept it.  
  
Isabel walked over to the door, pushing it open further; her hands were shaky with sweat… and the eerie creaking sound of the wooden panels beneath her feet could barely be heard over the quickening of her breath as she walked inside. She stopped suddenly, stock still, as she felt every part of her body quiver to the tips of her boots, her heart plummeting, crushing her chest cavity as if a sledgehammer had hit her in the chest, forming a lump in the pit of her stomach that made her breakfast churn.

It all breathes Alex Whitman, Isabel thought breathlessly as she looked around the room, inviting and nerdy. An almost hysterical giggle wanted to tear itself from her larynx as wet tears slipped down her face. The whole room stood still along with her, dust collecting in the air… yet everything still vibrated with so much life, like his invisible presence was the thing that was holding her in place. The remnant energy of his life force coursed through her in jolting waves of familiarity, making everything come alive within to wreak havoc on her already frayed senses. Being in Alex’s room was like living in a memory of what had once been, almost as if Alex himself was standing right there next to her … smiling down at her as he showed off the autographed Third Eye Blind poster that was still tacked up on the yellowing wall.  
  
Her fingertips ghosted over the small, strange knick-knacks piled up to the hilt into the storage boxes stacked high on his bed. She looked closer inside, grinning fondly at the ton of multicolored post-its written in chicken scratch with nonsensical information stuck to the forgotten eschewed things that she remembered seeing littered across his computer desk that night she had talked to him about going to prom. A few other items still hadn’t been packed away yet, including the worn and used computer science and lit textbooks aligning the top shelves alphabetically in random intervals, the outer edges dog-eared and yellowing with well-loved use…  
  
Her sigh turned into a sob when she saw the old Nirvana t-shirt she had expressed mailed to him back when he was spending Christmas in Sweden. It was folded neatly into one of the boxes and she plucked it up with delicate fingers, holding it close against her nose to smell the already fading scent that still clung to the fabric—a lingering musk that filled her every sense with a deep, overwhelming sorrow. She sniffed, tears now streaming down her face in waves.  
  
Isabel continued to cry, her arms folded over her body as she clung tighter to the shirt, needing to feel as close to Alex as she possibly could now. She prayed that she would just wake up from this horrible, cruel nightmare. Sure, she’d be kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs … but she would be okay… she would feel sane again with the ability to breathe. And she would finally be able to go on with her life as the core of herself became centered again into the right direction, able to label this shitty little ‘episode’ of hers into a filing system in the back of her brain; one that was never to be examined or visited again… Because she knew that, once she woke up, that she would be able to see Alex’s handsome face again, waiting for her in the hallways of school with a witty joke and goofy smile on his face that was meant just for her…  
  
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that the infamous Isabel Evans was feeling sorry for herself,” a familiar voice spoke, causing her entire body to jump in place as though a cup of ice was poured down the back of her neck, searing her skin with a deep bone chill that ran down her spine.  
  
“I bet you’d look good wearing my shirt.” The voice joked good-naturedly, a hint of something primal and possessive in the way it was spoken that she didn’t—couldn’t—want to read too much into. Isabel closed her eyes, clenching the shirt tighter to her person as two similar scents intermixed together to once again fill her every pore, driving her wild.  
  
“Shut up… Go away…” Isabel whispered, pleading with what she was certain was her own mind, playing tricks on her, punishing her for whatever sins she’d ever committed with delusions of him. She prayed for the voice to go away, for him to go away. Isabel really couldn’t afford to lose her mind right now, on top of everything else that she’d recently lost.  
  
“I can’t,” he said nonchalantly, a strange noise of cardboard rustling against fabric sounding behind her. “You want me here…” A spring in Alex’s old bed squeaked behind her, informing her that he was, in fact, not going anyway.  
  
“Why would I want that?” Isabel huffed bitterly, her frustration rising high and threatening to crush her underneath its exhausting weight. She just wanted him to go away! She just wanted to stop thinking about him!  
  
“I don’t know,” he answered, and Isabel could tell that he was probably shrugging mockingly behind her. She narrowed her eyes around the fringed fabric of the shirt collar; she felt her hands starting to ball into fists.  
  
“Why are you still dreaming about me when I told you not to?” he asked, an eyebrow probably raised.  
  
Good question, she thought, her anger still rising, why was she? Because obviously dreaming about him wasn’t doing her any favors, except on a one-way ticket to the loony bin.  
  
“Get bent,” Isabel growled, the dam that had been keeping her week-long mounting frustrations at bay finally breaking down and spilling over into every muscle and pore in her body. “I don’t need this shit!” She nearly shouted, only stopping herself when she realized she wasn’t in her own room… in her own house, and she refused to cause a scene in front of anybody besides herself. She was a perfectionist like that… “And I definitely don’t need you popping out of my dreams and appearing in my everyday life, driving me crazy with your nonexistent presence. I already do that to myself enough by thinking of you 24/7, and I don’t need you—whatever you are—encouraging it!”  
  
“Hey! Number one…Put my shirt down if you’re going to rude; you’ll spread bad juju all over it with your bad attitude…” He sounded testy, and Isabel couldn’t help the strange sense of self-satisfaction at his annoyance. She shouldn’t be the only one exasperated by this new development. “And number two, I don’t want to be popping in and out of your head either, but I’m not doing without a reason. You want me here… close by.” He paused, a slight tilt to his lips. ”Hell, you’re already always thinking about talking to me anyway, I just figured I’d make it easier for you by always being around when you need to talk now.”  
  
Isabel groaned, willing herself to turn around and look at the source of the voice... to look at him. She couldn’t cower behind a plain old t-shirt forever. Isabel Evans might be many things, but a coward wasn’t one of them… and she would be damned if she started acting like one now. She had to buck up; it was time for her to know if this was all really real, or if she was slowly losing her ever-loving mind. She needed physical evidence to know whether he really was there with her.  
  
Isabel turned on the balls of her feet, her eyes still closed as she held her breath. She could do this! she chanted over and over again in her mind, She could do this… She stopped, opening her eyes, and a crazed laugh left her mouth before her hand could cover it. She felt her excitement building, trying to break free against the reins she had on her erratic emotions, alternating between manic sobs and giggles.  
  
He bowed his head, smiling goofily at her as she saw tears well in his eyes. He was there! She thought wildly, the hole that had begun to form in her heart scabbing over and healing. He’s sitting right there and smiling at me, she laughed, Just like in my dream… just like I hoped for.  
  
A wide grin crossed her face as the overwhelming happiness grew. Alex smiled back shyly, his curly dark hair somehow glowing in the afternoon sun. “Are you real? Am I dreaming?” She quickly blurted out to distract herself. She wanted to avoid letting the desire for what was happening right in front of her fade away into the background as reason tried to take over. If she allowed herself to really stop and think about it, she would find it was absurd… find it downright impossible for Alex Whitman to be right there in the flesh, looking across at her, still smiling. She knew that once she gave herself time to come back to herself and think clearly about everything that was happening, that she would let the happiness she felt at being about to see Alex in real life, not just in her fantasies, slip away from her and have reality come crashing back… that she might, in fact, be dreaming a dream that she would possibly never wake up from.  
  
“I don’t know...” Alex answered, his brows furrowed in confusion at the suspicion look she was directing at him. “I know that you probably won’t be seeing me in your dreams anymore…” He paused, like he was trying to think of the best way to explain the answer to a complicated question to her. “At least, It won’t be the real me you’re dreaming about… That is, if you decided to still dream about me in your sleeping hours,” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, snickering a little before getting serious again, “Why?” He questioned, twiddling his thumbs as a look of hurt and spreading confusion flashed in his eyes. “Don’t you want me here… like this?” He pointed to himself with both of his hands.  
  
She stared at him, her eyes wide and serious. Did she? Did she want him here… like this? She honestly didn’t know. Sure, it would be simpler to keep telling herself that she would survive the pain of losing Alex if she could continue to have her deepest fantasies only exist in the dream realm of her mind… that death was far too final for what she was feeling to be anything but wishful thinking come true. The grim reaper was uncontrollable… it’s immense power irreversible. Death was forever, and she needed to learn to accept the knowledge of what was and what could not be changed… to leave behind all the uncertainties of what she didn’t fully understand and the fears that constantly plagued her heart. As much as she wished that there could be, there was no button that she could push to help her turn back the hands of time. Isabel couldn’t will Alex to life— no matter how much she wanted to. He was dead—despite the evidence trying to mount up to the contrary—and everything was different now because of it. She was different now…  
  
Isabel had allowed all that deep rooted sorrow and pain to swirl around within her, burning her raw and gnawing on her obviously waning sanity. The blinding white rage and overwhelming sense of foreboding that she had always felt in her stomach had now built into an abyss of nothingness that she tried daily to stuff into the back of her brain so that she could get through the day. It’s ropes had twisted, winding tight and molding her into the person she was becoming now, someone who was only willing to see what she wanted to… not willing to live with what was clearly right in front of her.  
  
Isabel had to turn all these nefarious things that were hiding and growing inside of her into something productive, to allow it to change her into something that she could stand to live with. She couldn’t keep letting the eternally expanding dread of what others might think of her, of any flaws and insecurities that might peek through the cracks of the carefully designed picture of perfection that was actually her body armor run her into the ground anymore. And if the empty, dark room she was now standing in, seeing her delusions come to life— the exact same room that had once belong to the real Alex Whitman, but now only consisted of packed boxes and flights of fancy that she wanted to be true—had taught her anything, it was that nothing lasted forever… and even the irrational amount of happiness she felt at seeing her illusions brought to life before her couldn’t last.  
  
Life was a weightless, fleeting thing that was just waiting to float away into the wind. So why not take any form of merriment she had left in this juncture of her life and run with it, even if that form meant that she was hastily losing her grip on reality?  
  
“Why is this happening to me?” Isabel asked herself, her hands tangling in her hair. Alex tilted his head, gazing at her intensely. It was like he knew that she was holding herself back by not answering his earlier question.  
  
But he must not have seen much weight in pushing her because instead he said in a droll voice, “I think it’s… you know… an alien thing…”  
  
“I don’t know about that,” She scoffed, her eyes downcast. She didn’t look back, not ready to give her hallucination that much leeway over her yet. Her increasing insanity may have chosen to manifest itself in the form of Alex, but it wasn’t truly him and she wasn’t about to grant her illusions permission into her heart. Her heels scraped a little against the hardwood floors of his bedroom. “I think it’s more of a freaky me thing…”  
  
“Maybe,” He shrugged, the springs of the twin bed bouncing a little along with his movement. “Does it really matter, Iz? I’m here now…”  
  
“Yes, it matters to me!” Isabel snapped, looking back up at him again with a glare in her eye, once again wanting to slap Alex Whitman in the face.  
For someone who said that they were doing all this for her own well-being, he was expertly trying to piss her off. “I want to know the extent of just how far I’ve lost my damn mind!”  
  
“Pipe down!” He hissed, his posture stiff and his expression cool. “I don’t need you scaring my parents. It’s not like they can see me!”  
  
“Fuck you.” Isabel cursed, jumping off the bed and away from him. Suddenly being near him made her feel as though she was being stripped to the bone, with all the layers taken away and fed to the birds. She didn’t like feeling this fucking naked in front of someone she was convinced wasn’t even alive anymore… but then again, she had always felt like she was one step closer to falling off the edge of a cliff when Whitman had been alive anyway.  
  
“Look,” Alex growled, his jaw square and his hands clenched. “I don’t want to fight with you…”  
  
“Then stop pissing me off.”  
  
“Yeah, okay. I’m the problem here.” He barked sarcastically.  
  
“Alex…” She warned.  
  
He sighed in defeat. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Isabel,” he said, his voice sounding like he was a thousand years old. “I don’t know why I’m here or what that means, and I can’t reassure you that you may not be losing your mind… but I do know that I want you to be happy, and that I did the only thing that I could think of to do.” He finished, his face pleading with her to forgive him for something that he honestly didn't need to be forgiven for. “I don’t want you to hate me for trying to make you happy, Iz…”  
  
Isabel exhaled; the argument had already exhausted whatever reserves she had left. She didn't want to fight anymore either… she couldn't fight anymore. It took energy that she didn't have to be angry nowadays. Besides, it wasn't Alex’s fault that approaching insanity didn't settle well with her sensibilities.  
  
“Not very smart of you, Whitman…” She murmured. Her mind was running a mile a minute, and she wanted it to stop. She wanted to stop feeling like she was a ninety-year-old woman, instead of the eighteen-year-girl that she was. “You could drive a girl to drink, you know,” she joked lamely, trying to make the hurt and confusion that still etched the lines of Alex’s face go away… but her laugh sounded forced and tired even to her own ears.  
  
Alex chuckled anyway at her lame joke, taking the peace offering like she knew he would. “I guess you’re right about that, but well…” He paused and another intense look that Isabel didn’t want to think too deeply about—it was love, it had to be—passed over his face. “You’re not like other girls.”  
  
You could say that again, Isabel thought bitterly. Not even Isabel herself knew anyone that was quite like her. She was one of a kind.  
  
Isabel smiled and Alex smiled back, “Why are you wearing that?” she asked a few seconds later, pointing to the outfit that he was wear and finally realizing that Alex wasn’t dressed for the New Mexico heat. He was wearing a ridiculously thick denim jacket over a stereotypical red and black-stripped flannel shirt with a faded pair of black jeans and steel-toed boots. It made her sweat just looking at it.  
  
“You must be hot…” she whispered, sitting back down next to him, her fingers itching to touch the uncovered parts of his skin… to make the final plunge into embracing the crazy roller-coaster she was about to call her life now. It was one thing that her heart was telling her that the apparition before her looked real, that Alex had somehow come back to her… but it’s a whole other matter when asking if he would feel real. Could she touch and hold him with all her might, feel the warmth radiate off him through the seams of his heat- inducing clothes and onto hers as his arms embraced her back?  
  
Oh God, Isabel sure hoped so. It’d been so long since she was near someone that felt something besides despair and anger, a person that made her aware of the fact that she was made of flesh and bone… that life still coursed through her veins, that her heart could race from something other than fear as she felt a deep spike of contentment and anticipation and longing flow through her, making her veins tingle at the possibility of something tangible abating her own rapidly growing isolation and loneliness.  
  
“Isabel, I’m dead.” He answered a few seconds later, his voice casual as his middle finger grazed the skin of her exposed arm.  
  
She shivered, looking down between them and noticing that their fingertips were inches away from the other. She didn’t know what compelled her to move her hand away from him… but she did, an almost stoic look crossing her face.  
  
He blinked at the removal of contact. He moved his hand away too, his rapidly cold demeanor thoroughly chasing away whatever was left of the haze of her daydream. “I don’t quite feel the hot and cold quite like that anymore…” he answered, his expression cold and unyielding.  
  
“What do you feel?” Isabel asked, hiding the growing blush behind her long blonde hair. What was she thinking… trying to touch a fucking hallucination? Was she desperate enough for physical contact that she was willing to get it from a manifestation from her own head? She was starting to become freaking pathetic. “Now that you’re dead.”  
  
Alex raised his eyebrow, ignoring her question. “You can touch me, Iz…” She looked away as he scooted closer. “I’m not going to blow away in the wind,” he said softly, his hot breath blowing against her ear.  
  
“Maybe I don’t want to…” Isabel answered shortly, shrinking away from the temptation of letting herself move closer to him… letting him back into her heart. “Maybe I’m afraid that you will, so why don’t you answer my question?” She moved away to the edge to the bed, her embarrassment and agitation at the situation engulfing her more by the second. She was a damn fool to think that she could handle his being there, close to her again—if he was even really there. His death was still too fresh, too raw for her to think that this encounter could end in any other way than disastrous, leaving her even more lonely and angrier than she was before.  
  
Alex frowned, his expression closing off from her even more. “Fair enough.” He bowed his head, his expression growing exasperated. He moved back to his corner of the bed as he tried to stammer out an explanation to her earlier question. “I guess it’s like everything and nothing passes through me—” He stopped mid-sentence, the corner of his eyes creasing in concentration from trying to force himself to continue on with something he was no longer comfortable explaining to her. He went on, “Like I can feel the texture of the planets and the stars within my blood vessels, but it’s the void of numbness that surrounds the universe that sort of wins over that overwhelmingly new feeling.”  
  
Isabel closed her eyes, understanding rushing toward her in a wave that would have been strong enough to knock her over if she hadn’t already been sitting down. It couldn’t be…? “Is it like the universe is cradled within your hands, but every time you want to get close to understanding its power… it slowly dissolves away through your fingertips…?” she asked, opening her eyes as she whipped her head back to stare at him, everything horridly falling into place… A big piece of a complicatedly long puzzle had suddenly been thrown into her lap. Had she…had death turned him into… her?  
  
“Yeah, it’s kind of like that.” He frowned again, his muscles tightening as he turned to look at her pale face. He leaned back, his eyes widening. “Isabel…” he breathed, his face going ashen white along with her as he began to understand what she was thinking. “Is that how it’s like to be an alie—“  
  
“Isabel, sweetie…” Mrs. Whitman’s soft voice interrupted them from the hallway, breaking Isabel away from Alex’s unfinished question with a jolt. Isabel stared at Mrs. Whitman with even wider eyes, an explanation for her dead son being in his old room on the tip of her tongue, but he was gone… evaporated into thin air, like he had never been there in the first place.  
  
Mrs. Whitman peered at her through the doorway, a mixture of strong apprehension and vague curiosity etched on her prematurely old face. “Did you find what you were looking for, honey?”  
  
She blinked back the fresh wave of tears that were starting to fall down her face, the stupid Nirvana tee still tucked away in her grip. “Yeah,” She said breathlessly, a sad laugh passing her mouth, disbelief and anger once again filling her senses, along with the returning wave of a familiar scent that filled her nostrils. “I think I did…”  
  
  
_**TBC...**_

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this story on a roswell fanfic only board that went down for a short while, but was unknown at the time if it was ever going to be up again. 
> 
> It did, but It got me thinking that I should put this story on more platforms just in case. I honestly don't expect comments on this story, but it would still be a welcomed surprise nontheless.


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